Forgotten Realms' Resident Evil
by Laguna-Chan
Summary: A slightly AU of the FR. What do u get when u throw Drizzt, Entreri, Zaknefien, and the other characters we know and love into a house wrought of pure evil? Warning: Character death, language, blood/gore, maybe some very slight yaoi possibly? DANGER!
1. Mission 1: The briefing

Ok, first off I dont own FR, it's characters, nor do I own Resident Evil and it's characters. Now then this story is still set in the FR time frame but with a modern day twist to it. I tried to keep the characters as true to form as possible but... well anyway, I hope you enjoy this story and I'll work on writing more in thr future )

_Forgotten Realms_

**RESIDENT EVIL**

**Chapter 1**

Drizzt was already late for the briefing when he somehow managed to drop the thick stack of files he carried under his arm onto the floor. Paper clips and sticky notes scattered all across the white tile floor of his small apartment.

"_Vith_!" He spat vehemently.

He checked his watch as he squatted down onto his hunches to gather the scattered papers from the cold floor. Jarlaxle had called the meeting for 1900 sharp, which meant he had about nine minutes to make the ten-minute drive, find parking and get his ass into a chair. The first full disclosure meeting since the S.T.A.R.S. had gotten the case – the first real meeting since he'd made the Baldur's Gate transfer-and he was going to be late.

_Go figure. Probably the first time in years I actually give a shit about being on time and I fall apart at the door…._

Muttering darkly and feeling tense and angry with him self for not getting ready earlier, he realized that it wasn't so much as him self but the damn case that was the problem. He'd picked up his copies of the ME files right after breakfast and had spent all day digging though the reports, searching for something that the cops had somehow missed and feeling more and more frustrated as the day slipped past and he had failed to come up with anything new. As he gathered the files, his hand suddenly stopped and he found him self staring down at the glossy color photo that had ended up on top.

_Oh, Catty…_ He picked it up slowly, knowing that he didn't have time and yet unable to look away from the blood-spattered face. He felt the knots of tension that had been building all day intensify, and for a moment it was all he could do to breathe as he stared at the crime scene photo. Catty-Brie, age 22. He'd flipped past it earlier, telling himself that there was nothing there that he needed to see…

_But that's not true, is it? You can keep pretending, or you can just admit it. Everything's different now and it has been since the day she died._

When he'd first moved to Baldur's Gate, he'd been under a lot of stress, feeling uncertain about the transfer, not even sure if he wanted to stay with the S.T.A.R.S. He had been very lonely until the young woman who lived across the street had shown up on his doorstep and asked him with wide, tear-stained eyes if he was really a police-man. Her father was at work, and she couldn't find her little dog.

Catty-Brie in her pink summer dress, shuffling and shy…

The two of them found her puppy a few blocks away in the park and Drizzt had made a new friend.

Six weeks ago Catty had went on a late night walk in the woods just out side of the town with her dog and became the first victim of the psychopaths that had since terrorized the isolated village.

_Enough! She's gone, but you can finally do something about it!_

Drizzt fumbled the papers back into their folder, and then stepped outside into the early evening light, breathing deeply. He hurried to his small, black four by four Jeep Sahara parked by the front walk, forcing himself not to look at Catty's house as he started the car and pulled away from the curb. Drizzt drove through the wide suburban streets of his neighborhood with his window down. There weren't many children or pets around anymore. Not since the trouble had started, more and more people were keeping their children and animals indoors, even during the day.

Drizzt sighed deeply to himself. He could feel that something evil was drawing near…

...

" 'Sup, Arty!!"

Artemis Entreri turned away from the coffee machine and saw Alton DeVirr striding down the empty hall toward him, a wide grin on his Elvin, dark skinned face. Alton just so happened to be an excellent mechanic as well as one of the best shots Entreri had ever seen in action. But that didn't stop the ex- assassin from taken out his frustrations on him.

"How many times do I have to tell you damned elves? Don't call me that!" Entreri fumed as he picked up his cup of steaming coffee from the machine and glanced at his watch. He still had some time to kill before the meeting. Alton stopped in front of him, ruby eyes sparking as the mischievous smile on his face grew slightly wider. Entreri noticed he was carrying an armful of different equipment, everything from vests, utility belts, and shoulder packs.

"Anyways, Jarlaxle gave us the go-ahead to start the search. Bravo team's going in." He dropped his stuff on one of the lobby's chairs, still grinning widely.

Entreri frowned. "Oh really? And when is this?"

"Soon as I warm up the chopper, we're out of here." Alton reached down and picked up one of the vests from the chair and pulled it on over his T-shirt as he spoke. "While you Alphas sit around taking notes, we're gonna go kick some cannibal ass!"

"Whatever. Just don't get your sorry ass eaten out there. I still think there's more going on here than a couple of slobbering nut jobs hanging around in the woods."

"Yes dad." Alton said sarcastically as he ran his fingers back through his stark white hair and grabbed his utility belt. Artemis could see that he was already focused on the mission. Entreri thought about saying more but decided against it. For all his bravado, DeVirr was a professional and didn't need to be told to be careful.

Entreri regarded the Drow a little longer before he made his way to the special ops' meeting room through the doorway of the small upstairs waiting room and down the hall. He was a tad suspicious as to why Jarlaxle was sending the teams in separately. But then again, Entreri made it his business to be suspicious of everybody. Other wise, he wouldn't still be alive_._

Artemis sighed. He had to focus and keep his mind on what he could do to find out why people were disappearing, but he was exhausted from running on a minimum sleep and an almost constant anxiety that had plagued him since Catty-Brie's death. Not that he cared about the annoying brat of a woman, but because it affected those who worked with him who did. Maybe he was losing his perspective, his objectivity dulled by recent events…

He forced himself not to think about anything at all, let alone his own personal problems as he neared the S.T.A.R.S. office, determined to be clear-headed for the meeting. The door to the S.T.A.R.S. office stood open and the muted sounds of male voices spilling out into the hall. Entreri shook his head as he stepped into the small, cluttered office that served as the S.T.A.R.S. base of operations.

Zaknefien Do'Urden and Masoj Hunett were over to the side of the room, going through a box of papers and talking quietly amongst themselves. Berg'inyon Baenre, the Alpha pilot, was drinking coffee and staring at the main computer screen a few feet away from him. Across the room Captain Jarlaxle was leaning back in his chair, hands behind his head, smiling absently at something the Chief was telling him.

"Artemis!" Jarlaxle said when their glances met, interrupting the chief as he sat forward. "I'm so glad you're here. Now we can stop wasting time."

The Chief scowled in his direction but Entreri would back down to no man. Even if said man was the Chief of their department. Jarlaxle didn't care much for him either and didn't bother trying to be any more than polite in his dealings with the man. From the glint in his eye, it was obvious that he didn't care who knew it either.

Entreri walked into the office and stood by his desk, setting his coffee on the battered desktop as he regarded at Jarlaxle curiously.

"Why are you sending the Bravo team in?"

The captain gazed back at him impassively, arms folded around his chest. "Standard procedure, my dear Artemis."

Entreri frowned as he sat down. "Don't dance around the subject like you usually do. With what we talked about last week, I thought-"

"I gave the order, Entreri. If you don't like it, then tough shit." The Chief interrupted.

_Sanctimonious prick…_ Entreri thought angrily. He forced a smile, knowing it would irritate the man. "Of course, sir. No need to explain yourself on my behalf."

The Chief glared at him for a moment, then apparently decided to let it drop. It was never smart to cause trouble with the likes of Artemis Entreri. Instead, he turned his attention back to Jarlaxle. "I'll expect a report when Bravo returns. Now if you'll excuse me, Captain."

Jarlaxle nodded. "Chief."

The big man turned then and stalked past Entreri and out of the room. Artemis fought off the urge to plunge his emerald studded dagger in between the hulking man's shoulder blades. His musing was interrupted by Zaknefien's indignant scoff.

"What an arrogant ass."

Masoj and Berg'inyon laughed, but Entreri kept silent. He looked back at Jarlaxle, the Drow's perpetually composed expression was always hard to read. Jarlaxle had taken over Baldur's Gate's S.T.A.R.S. operation only a few months ago and Entreri knew that Jarlaxle didn't do anything if there wasn't a shot at personnel gain in it. The new captain was always the same: charming, smooth, professional, and cool. To put it bluntly, Jarlaxle was just simply Jarlaxle.

The Drow Capitan sighed and stood, addressing his old friend tiredly. "Sorry about that Arty but the Chief didn't put in an effort to look into your suspicions."

Entreri scowled. "Don't call me that! My name is Artemis though I would prefer Entreri to the former, thank you very much." He nodded then as he shrugged. "And that's not your fault anyways. The Chief just needs to get his head out of his ass."

They noticed Zaknefien walking toward them then, his muscles rippling with his every move. He stopped beside Entreri's desk and looked down at the shorter man.

"Forget him. He's just trying to rattle you up a bit. Everyone knows he's trying to do anything and everything to get you to cross that fine line between staying on the team and losing your badge. But you won't give him that satisfaction, we all know you too well for that. Anyways, Uthengental will give us a call as soon as Bravo team finds anything."

Entreri nodded again, but he still felt uneasy about the whole thing. Something just didn't sit right with him. In truth, Uthengental and Dantrag were the only experienced soldiers in Bravo. Gromph was a good scout and a brilliant chemist, but in spite of his S.T.A.R.S. training, he couldn't shoot the broad side of a barn. Wulfgar was from Icewind Dale like Drizzt and was a top-rate communications expert, but he also lacked the field experience. New on the Bravo team was Kimmuriel Oblidora, who'd only been with the S.T.A.R.S. for three weeks and was supposed to be some kind of medical genius. Entreri had met him a couple of times, even did some traveling with the Drow back in their mercenary days, and he seemed bright enough, but he was still young (well, by elf standards anyway).

_Why do I have this sinking feeling that it won't be enough, even with all our strength combined?_ Entreri sighed deeply as he took a sip of his coffee. He found himself staring off into space, alone in the knowledge that the savage murders were only the tip of the proverbial iceberg.

...

Zak stood by Entreri's desk for a minute longer, trying to think of something else to say, but the man didn't look like he was in the mood for conversation. Zak shrugged inwardly and headed back to where Masoj was going through files on one of the desks at the far end of the room. Artemis Entreri and Drizzt Do'Urden were the best of the best. If anyone could sort out this crazy and bizarre mess, it would be them.

"Find anything of interest, my young friend?"

Masoj looked up at the older Drow from the messy stack of papers piled high on his desk, a rueful smirk on his lean face. "You're joking right?"

Zak sighed and scooped up a handful of files and perched him self on the corner edge of the desk, resting one arm on his bent knee casually.

"Maybe my son found it. He was still here when I left last night. I'm pretty sure he was going through the witness reports again for the millionth time…"

He stopped then, looking sad and thoughtful. "I really do feel sorry for both Drizzt and Bruenor. Not to mention Wulfgar. He was gonna marry her after all. Makes sense he would want to go with Bravo team to get his revenge. Poor Catty. She was such a nice girl. Just goes to show, bad things happen to good people. Drizzt just hasn't let it go yet. They were pretty close friends…"

"Yea…" Masoj nodded absently. It had been a pretty hard blow.

"What are you two looking for again?" Berg'inyon asked.

Zaknefien and Masoj looked over at the youngest Baenre who still sat at the computer console with his headset on. He had been monitoring Bravo team's progress throughout their fly-by of the forested district but looked bored as hell.

"Zak claims that there were floor plans in here somewhere on the old Spencer estate." Masoj said. He paused and grinned at Berg'inyon playfully. "Though I'm starting to think that ol' Zak's gone senile on us. They say the mind is the first thing to go when you reach his old age."

Masoj and Berg'inyon snickered quietly at the joke. Zak scoffed good naturedly at the pair of young Drow. "Oh yeah? Well "Ol' Zak" could easily kick your ass into the next century, young whipper snapper."

Masoj looked up at him barely able to control his laughter. "Yeah, but would you remember you did it afterwards?"

Zaknefein chuckled as he shook his head. He was only 400 years old (the peek of one's prime in Elvin years) but had been with the Baldur's Gate's S.T.A.R.S. for 15, making him one of the few senior members. He endured numerous old age jokes which usually came from the youngest members of the team.

Berg'inyon cocked an eyebrow as he thought back to the previous conversation. "Why are you guys looking for blueprints to the old Spencer place?"

Zak shook his head yet again as he smiled in his casual way. He found himself wondering again how the youngest Baenre had ever made it into the Alpha team. He was undoubtedly the best hacker working for S.T.A.R.S. as well as a decent enough pilot but he wasn't so hot under pressure. His older brother Dantrag had often commented on this when he wasn't around, and while S.T.A.R.S. generally stuck up for one another, nobody disagreed with the middle Baenre's assessment.

"Let's just say it could come in handy."

"Whatever." Berg'inyon muttered as he rolled his eyes at the nonchalant answer.

"Anyway," Masoj went on, "the council members of Baldur's Gate told the Chief that they had sent someone out to check the place over, and that it was secure with no break-ins."

"So again, why look for blueprints?" Berg'inyon persisted.

It was Entreri who answered, startling Zaknefien in the process. "Because it's the only place in the woods that hasn't been checked over by the police, and it's practically in the middle of the crime scenes. And because it would be best if you didn't always trust what other people say."

Berg'inyon frowned. It was no secret that the human intimidated him. Artemis Entreri intimidated everyone. "But if the counsel already sent somebody out…"

Whatever Entreri was going to say next was cut short by Jarlaxle's voice rising from the front of the room.

"All right everyone, pay attention. Since it seems that young progeny Drizzt isn't planning on joining us, why don't we get this started?"

Zak slid off his perch and walked over to his own desk and took a seat. He hoped that Drizzt would make it in time. His son was never one to be tardy, especially to a meeting as important as this. Perhaps Catty-Brie's death had affected him more than either of them had originally thought. His glance wandered to Artemis a few seats over and ahead. He then realized that he was worried about Entreri for the first time since this whole disaster had started. He'd recruited the man for the S.T.A.R.S. a few years back thanks to a chance encounter they had had when he had been out with his son, Drizzt. The man was an uncanny strategist and was as solid as a rock not to mention the fact that he was a top-notch marksman and a more than able swordsman.

But looking at him now…

Entreri's obsession with the murders in Baldur's Gate was understandable, particularly since his girl friend had mysteriously disappeared. Nobody in the small city wanted to see another life lost. Zak sighed as he thought about Calihye. She had been a pretty and clever thing and she and Artemis had seemed pretty serious. Zak had his own family and, (though he and Malice may not still be together they still had their children to think of) was as determined as anyone else on the team to stop these ruthless killers. But Entreri's relentless suspicion had gone a little overboard.

"_And because it would be best if you didn't always trust what other people say."_ that meant that he suspected that the counsel was lying or that the Chief was…

Zak let out a long lingering sigh as the meeting began.


	2. Mission 2: End transmission

Chapter 2

**Chapter 2 **

Drizzt let out a deeply relieved sigh as he heard the sound of Jarlaxle's voice as he sprinted toward the open door of the S.T.A.R.S. office. He had seen one of their helicopters taking off as he arrived and had been beside him self with worry that they had left without him. There was simply no room for people who couldn't keep up and Drizzt had wanted to be in on this case from the very beginning.

"The BGPD has already established a perimeter search, spanning sectors one, four, seven, and nine. It's the central zones we're concerned with so Bravo team will set down here…"

Drizzt took some pride in knowing that at least he wasn't _that_ late. Jarlaxle always ran meetings the same way, starting with an update search, theory, and then questions and answers. The former ranger took a deep breath as he stepped into the office, trying to slip in unnoticed. Jarlaxle was pointing to a posted map at the front of the room that was dotted with colored pins which marked where the bodies had been found. He hardly faltered in his dialogue as the young Do'Urden quickly slinked to his desk, looking very much like a young boy who turned up late for class and was caught red handed.

Artemis Entreri threw him a half-smirk as Drizzt sat down next to him. He nodded back to him in acknowledgement before focusing on their Capitan. He didn't know any of the team that well aside from his father of course, but he did have quite an extensive history with all of them. Especially Entreri. They were all a team now though and since his transfer they all had made a real effort to make him feel welcome since he'd arrived. At least they had _tried_ too anyways…

"…After a fly-by of the other central areas. Once they report in, we'll have a better idea of where to focus our energies." Jarlaxle had been saying as he made a gesture with his hand over a section of the map.

"And what about the Spencer place?" Entreri asked. "It's practically in the middle of the crime scenes. If we start there, we can conduct a more complete search."

"If the information Bravo team collects points to that area, rest assured, we'll search there. For now, I don't see any reason to consider it a priority."

Entreri looked incredulous. "Why the hell not? We only have the council's word that the estate is secure-"

Jarlaxle leaned against his desk, his features expressionless as he gazed at Artemis with one gleaming red eye, the other hidden behind an elaborately decorated black eye patch. "Artemis, we all want to get to the bottom of this. But we have to work as a team and the best approach to this is to do a thorough search for those missing hikers before we start jumping to conclusions. Bravo will investigate and we'll conduct this search by the book. Anything else you would like to add?"

Entreri frowned but said nothing more. Drizzt resisted the urge to point out that Jarlaxle's was technically doing the right thing but had left out the part about it being political to do what the Chief wanted. The Chief had made it quite clear time and time again throughout the killing spree that he was in charge of the investigation and was calling the shots. Jarlaxle's constant diplomacy presented him as an independent thinker but his obvious deferral to all things where the Chief was concerned was irritating. Drizzt sighed in exasperation inwardly. At least Entreri was a man who didn't play politics and Drizzt could see why the man got so easily aggravated when it came to the former Drow mercenary.

"Ah, young Drizzt. I'm delighted to see that you decided to grace us with your presence. Illuminate this ugly bunch of sticks for us with your brilliant insight. What have you got for us?"

Drizzt met Jarlaxle's sharp gaze evenly, trying to seem as cool and composed as he was. "Nothing new, I'm afraid. The only obvious pattern in location and that's about it."

He looked down at his notes he had on the stack of files in front of him, scanning them for reference.

"Also, the tissue samples from underneath Catty-Brie's fingernails were an exact match. We got the test results yesterday and she had definitely been hiking in the foothills which would be sector seven-B…." He looked up at Jarlaxle seriously. "My theory at this point is that there's a possible ritualistic cult hiding in the surrounding woods, maybe a dozen strong complete with guard dogs trained to attack intruders in their territory."

"Elaborate." The former mercenary conceded as he folded his arms over his chest and patiently waited for the young Do'Urden to continue.

Drizzt shrugged, content with the knowledge that no one had made any sardonic comments as of yet. "The cannibalism and dismemberment of the corpses suggest ritualistic behavior, as does the presence of decomposed flesh found on some of the victims. Think of it as if the killers are carrying parts of previous unknown victims to their attacks like, say, in the form of jewelry or some primitive weaponry like some cannibalistic tribes in foreign regions of Faeuren do. We've got saliva and tissue samples from four separate human assailants, though eyewitness reports suggest up to ten or eleven people. And those killed by animals were all found to have been attacked in the same vicinity, suggesting that they wandered into some kind of off-limits area. The saliva traces appear to be canine, though there's still some disagreement on that particular matter…" His voice trailed off as he finished.

Jarlaxle's face betrayed nothing, but he nodded slowly. "Not too shabby young Do'Urden. Is there anything that you disprove?"

Drizzt sighed and shrugged once more. The idea of having to shoot down his own theory didn't sit well with him, but that was part of the job and in all honesty was the best way to encouraged clear, rational thinking. The S.T.A.R.S. trained their people not to fixate on any single path to the truth. He glanced at his notes again. "It's highly unlikely that a cult that big would move around much and the murders started too recently to be local. The BGPD would've seen signs before now or at least noticed some activities that would've been an escalation to this kind of behavior. Also there's the level of post-mortem violence that indicates disorganized offenders and those types usually work solo."

Masoj, the Alpha vehicle specialist from the back of the room, decided to pipe up. "The animal part works though, what with the protecting their territory and stuff."

Jarlaxle plucked a pen from the cup on his desk that held his writing utensils and walked to the dry-erase board next to his desk, talking all the while. "I agree." He wrote territorial on the board and then turned back to face him. "Is there anything else?"

Drizzt shook his head but felt satisfied that he'd contributed something to this endeavor. He knew the cult aspect was a tad far fetched but it had been all he could come up with. The police certainly hadn't come up with anything better. He and Entreri exchanged quick glances and the man gave Drizzt an approving nod before he turned his attention back to the front of the room. Drizzt then glanced back at his father who flashed him a quick wink before Jarlaxle began talking again. He had turned his attention to Berg'inyon Baenre who suggested that it was a new strain of terrorism and that it was possible that demands would be made soon. Jarlaxle put terrorism on the board, but didn't seem enthusiastic about the idea and neither did anyone else. The youngest Baenre shrugged dispassionately and turned his attention back to his headset, checking on the Bravo team's status.

Both Masoj and Zaknefien passed on theorizing and Entreri's views on the killings were already well known if not all around indistinguishable. He believed that there was an organized assault going on and that external influences were somehow involved. Jarlaxle asked if he had anything new to add and Entreri shook his head, looking dejected.

Jarlaxle capped the black marker and sat on the edge of his desk, gazing thoughtfully at the blank spaces that took up most of the board as he absently gnawed on the pen's cap. "Well, at least it's a start," he said. "I know you've all read the police and coroner reports and listened to the eyewitness accounts, but-" He was cut off by the sound of Berg'inyon's voice at the far corner of the room.

"Berg here, over."

The captain lowered his voice and continued. "But at this point, we don't know what we're dealing with and I know that all of us have some… " His eyes shot to the former assassin for just a second before he continued to address the team as a whole. " -concerns with how the BGPD has been dealing with the situation. But now that we're on the case, I-"

"What?"

At the sound of Berg'inyon's raised voice, everyone turned inquiring gazes toward the back of the room. He was standing up thoroughly frustrated as he kept one hand pressed to the earpiece of his set and the other tweaking a dial on the control board ever so slightly.

"Bravo team, report. Repeat, Bravo team. I said report!"

Jarlaxle stood hastily at this. "Berg, put it on COM!"

Berg'inyon did so, hitting the switch on his console and within seconds the harsh crackling sound of static filled the room. Everyone strained to hear the voice amidst the fuzz, but for several tense seconds, there was nothing.

Then, "…You copy? Malfunction, we're going to have to…"

The rest was lost in a burst of static. It sounded like Uthengental, the Bravo team leader. Drizzt nervously nibbled on his lower lip and exchanged a worried glance with Entreri. The burly Drow had sounded almost frantic. Uthengental was never frantic. They all listened for another moment but there was nothing more than the sound of open air.

"Position?" Jarlaxle snapped.

The youngest Baenre's face was as pale as his ebony skin would allow. "They're in sector twenty-two, tail end of section C but I've lost the signal from there. The transmitter is off-line Captain."

Drizzt was stunned and saw the feeling clearly reflected in every other face in the room. The helicopter's transmitter was designed to keep working no matter what. The only way it would shut down was if something big happened like if the entire system blanked out or was seriously damaged.

Like in a crash. A big one.

Entreri felt his stomach knot as he recognized the coordinates. The Spencer estate. Uthengental had said something about a malfunction. It just had to be a coincidence. But to a trained warrior like Artemis Entreri, it didn't feel like one. The Bravos were in terrible danger and were practically on top of the old Baldur's Gate mansion. All of this went through his head in a split-second, and then he was standing, ready to move. Whatever happened, the S.T.A.R.S. took care of their own.

Captain Jarlaxle D'Arthre was already in action as he addressed the team even as he reached for his keys, heading for the gun safe. _"__**Masoj I want you to take over the board and keep trying to**__**raise them. Baenre warm up the chopper and get the all clear. I want us ready to fly in five!**__"_

The Drow captain unlocked the safe as Berg'inyon raced out the door. Masoj adorned the headset and set about the task of trying to further his communication with the other team. The reinforced metal door to the gun safe swung open, revealing an arsenal of fire arms shelved above boxes of ammo. Jarlaxle turned to the rest of them, his expression as bland as ever but his voice sharp with authority. _"__**Zak and Entreri I want you to get the weapons into**__**the chopper, loaded and secured. Drizzt get the vests and**__**packs and meet us on the roof**__." _He clipped a key off his ring and tossed it to the younger Drow. _**"I'm going to put a call in to The Chief and make sure he**__**gets us some backup and EMTs down at the barricade**__,"_ Jarlaxle affirmed. Then he yelled harshly, _"__**FIVE MINUTES OR LESS, LADIES! GET YOUR ASSES IN GEAR AND LETS MOVE!!**__"_

Drizzt raced off for the locker room and Zak grabbed one of the empty duffel bags from the bottom of the gun safe, nodding at Entreri. The man hefted another bag and started loading boxes of shells, cartridges, and clips as Zak carefully handled the weapons, checking each one thoroughly. Behind them, the young Hunett continued to relentlessly hail the Bravo team to no avail. Entreri wondered again about the proximity of the Bravo team's last reported position to the Spencer estate. Was there a connection? And if so, then how? Calihye had worked for Umbrella Cooperation and they owned the estate-

"Chief? This is Captain Jarlaxle D'Arthre. We just lost contact with Bravo team. We're going in."

Entreri felt a sudden rush of adrenaline surge through his veins and worked faster, aware that every second counted, that every second could mean the difference between life and death for his friends and teammates. A serious crash was unlikely because the Bravos would have been flying low. Even though Dinin was a decent pilot . . . what would happen after they went down?

Jarlaxle quickly relayed the information to the Chief over the phone and then hung up, walking back to join them, his face a mask of dead seriousness.

_"_I'm going up to make sure our chopper's outfitted. Hunett, give it another minute and then turn it over to the boys at the front desk. You can help these two carry the equipment up. I'll see you up top."Once the order was given, the ex-mercenary hurried out of the room, his footsteps falling in rapid succession as he dashed loudly down the hall.

_"_I'll admit, he's good_," _Zak said quietly, and Artemis found that he had to agree. It was reassuring to see that their new captain didn't rattle easily. Entreri still wasn't sure how he felt about the Drow personally, even after all their crazy adventures together, but his respect for Jarlaxle's abilities grew every minute.

_"_Come in, Bravo, do you copy? Repeat_ . . ." _Masoj continued to prompt, his voice tight with strain as his pleas became lost to the haze of white static that pulsed out of the intercom and into the now silent room.

...

Jarlaxle strode hurriedly down the deserted hall and through the shabbier of the two second-floor waiting rooms, nodding briskly at a pair of uniforms that stood talking by the soda machine. The door to the outside landing was propped open allowing a faint, humid breeze to cut through the stickiness of the air inside. It was still daylight, but not for much longer. He hoped that wouldn't complicate matters, although he figured it probably would. The former mercenary took a left and started down the winding corridor that led to the helipad, absently running through a mental checklist.

_Hailing open procedure? Check. Weapons? Check. Gear? Check. Report?..._

He already knew that everything was in order, but went through it again anyway; it didn't pay to get sloppy and assumptions were the first step down that path. He liked to think of himself as a Drow of precision, one who had taken all possibilities into account and decided on the best course of action after thoroughly weighing all factors. Control was what being a competent leader was all about. He had found that out from his days as leader of the mercenary band Bregan D'Arthre.

_But to close this case…_

He shut the thought down before it could get any further. He knew what had to be done, and there was still plenty of time. All he needed to concentrate on now was getting the Bravos back to base, safe and sound. Jarlaxle opened the door at the end of the hall and stepped out into the bright evening, the rising hum of the helicopter's engine and the smell of machine oil filling his senses. The small rooftop helipad was cooler than inside, partly draped by the shadow of an aging water tower. It was empty except for the gunmetal gray Alpha helicopter. For the first time, he wondered what had gone wrong for the Bravo team. He had had Masoj and the new recruit check both birds out earlier that day and they had both been fine with all systems go.

He dismissed that train of thought as he walked toward the chopper, his shadow falling long across the concrete roof top. It didn't really matter anymore anyways. What mattered was what came next. Expect the unexpected; that was the S.T.A.R.S. motto, although that basically meant to prepare for anything and everything cause anything that can happen, will. Jarlaxle smirked to him self. It sounded like something Artemis would say.

Expect nothing but always try to get something in return. That was Jarlaxle D'Arthre's motto. Sure it was a little less catchy, perhaps, but infinitely more useful. It virtually guaranteed that nothing would ever surprise him and that if he could get something for services rendered or could get some kind of gain out of the situation, then he would. After all, that was what being an opportunist was all about.

He stepped up to the open pilot door and got a shaky thumbs-up from Berg'inyon. Jarlaxle noted with some amusement that had the Drow's skin been the pale color of their surface cousins, the young Baenre would have looked positively green. Jarlaxle briefly played with the thought of leaving him behind. Entreri was licensed to fly and was by far way more reliable then Berg'inyon who had a reputation for choking under pressure. But the last thing he needed was for one of his best men to be caught with his hands already full if there was any trouble. The thought of the lost Bravos came back to him then and he firmly decided against it. This was a rescue mission after all and the worst Berg'inyon could do would be to throw up all over himself if the chopper had crashed badly and that was something Jarlaxle was willing to live with. Besides, he had to give the young warrior at least a little credit.

He opened the side door and crouched his way into the cabin, doing a quick inventory of the equipment that lined the walls. Emergency flares, ration kits and the like. He popped the lid on the heavy, dented footlocker behind the benches and looked through the basic medical supplies, nodding to himself. They were as ready as they were ever going to be.

Jarlaxle grinned suddenly as he sat wondering what the Chief was doing right now. Probably crapping him self and hyperventilating into a small brown paper bag. Jarlaxle chuckled as he stepped back out onto the sun-baked asphalt, getting a sudden clear mental image of his beloved Chief doing just that. The arrogant basturd liked to think he could control everything and everyone around him and would lose his temper and throw a fit like a spoiled child when he couldn't. And that was why he was an insufferable idiot. Unfortunately he was one with a little bit of power. Jarlaxle had made it a point to check him out carefully before taking the position here in Baldur's Gate and knew a few things about the Chief that didn't paint him in a particularly positive light. He had no intention of using that information but if the Chief pushed him too far and attempted to screw things up anymore than he already had then Jarlaxle would have no qualms about letting that information get out...

_...Or at least telling him that I have access to it would certainly keep him out of the way._ He mused smugly.

...

Zak appeared through the door on the roof carrying more ammo cache, his firm and powerful biceps flexing as he shifted his hold on the heavy canvas bag and started for the chopper. Entreri and Masoj arrived soon after and followed the same path Zak had taken to their waiting ride. Masoj was burdened with the side arms and Entreri lugged a satchel of RPGs and had the compact grenade launcher slung over one shoulder.

Jarlaxle marveled at Zak's brute strength as the Alpha climbed in and casually set the bag down as though it didn't weigh over a hundred pounds. Zaknefien was bright enough, but in the S.T.A.R.S., muscle was a definite asset. Everyone else in his squad was in good shape, but compared to Zak, they were light weights. Except for Artemis. The man was older, at least in his mid forties, but he had the body of a man in his early thirties. He kept him self in excellent physical condition as well. But he was smaller then Zak was, coming up to about five foot five in height making him the second shortest member on Alpha team. Drizzt was the shortest at five foot four inches. Zak was five foot seven at least.

Jarlaxle watched as the three of them stored the equipment then turned his attention back to the door, watching for the younger Do'Urden. He checked his watch and frowned. It had been just under five minutes since their last contact with Bravo, they'd made excellent time ... so where the hell was Drizzt? He hadn't interacted with him much since he'd come to Baldur's Gate but his file had given him a raving review. He'd gotten high recommendations from everyone he'd worked with, praised by his last captain as highly intelligent and "unusually" calm in a crisis. He'd have to be, with his history. Zaknefien was his father and had been the best Weapon Master in all the Underdark. He'd trained him to follow in his footsteps, and word had it that he had done quite well. Jarlaxle actually got to briefly see him in action a few times against Artemis Entreri…

Prodigy or not though Jarlaxle found him self contemplated whether or not he should get the young Drow a pocket watch. As he silently counted the seconds as they passed by, he mentally urged the youngest Do'Urden to get his ass into gear and motioned for Berg'inyon to start the helicopter's blades turning. It was time to find out just how bad things had gotten out there.


	3. Mission 3: Friend or foe?

Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

Drizzt moved through the door of the dimly lit and silent S.T.A.R.S. locker room with his arms full. He carried the two bulging duffel bags as he made his way to one of the benches and sat them down so he could hastily braid his long, waist length white hair and tuck it into a well-worn black beret. It was his favorite hat and it even brought him a bit of luck. He only hoped that it would continue to do so. He glanced at his watch before hefting the bags once more, pleased to note that it had only taken him three minutes to load up. He'd gone through all of the Alpha lockers, grabbing utility belts, fingerless gloves, Kevlar vests and shoulder packs, noting that the lockers reflected their user's personalities. His father, Zak, had had a pretty bare locker except for a few pictures of the two of them during Drizzt's training days with the former Weapon's Master of house Do'Urden. Entreri's had been home to a variety of adventure and mystery books and held a picture of his girl friend Calihye sitting in an apple tree. It was Entreri's favorite picture of her and Drizzt had stooped to get a better look. She had been wearing a white knee length, sleeveless summer dress with sunflowers on it and a sun hat that boasted sunflowers and a bright yellow ribbon and sandals. The picture had been taken last summer and the rumor going around was that Entreri had been planning on proposing to her before her disappearance. Drizzt understood how he must have felt when he had discovered that she had been one of the many missing since the attacks had started. Drizzt had taken one last look at the lovely, smiling, sun kissed face framed by long wavy, wind blown hair and moved on to the next locker. Berg'inyon had a stack of self-help books and some beach girl pin ups and Masoj kept a change of clothes and a Wizard calendar. Only Jarlaxle's had been devoid of personal effects and it didn't surprise Drizzt in the least. The Captain was a collector of oddities and probably had too much crap to put in his locker and had opted to leave it empty instead.

His own locker held a number of notebooks, pens, pencils, and other artistic material. On the door hung a small mirror and a small wallet sized photo of him and his father, taken when they had gone to the beach two summers ago. As he'd quickly thrown the Alpha gear together, he decided that another trip was in order and that maybe he could get some of the other team members to join them this time.

Drizzt fumbled with the lock as he balanced the bags on one raised knee and had just clasped it shut when someone coughed loudly behind him. Startled, Drizzt whirled away from the locker door to face the intruder, dropping the bags in the process, his mind reflexively assessing the situation. He could have sworn he had locked the door behind him when he had come in. The small locker room held four banks of lockers and had been absolutely quiet when he had entered. There was another door in the back of the room but he hadn't been aware someone had come through it.

_No. I didn't hear anyone come in here. If they had, I would have known. That can only mean that someone was already in here when I came in. He must have been hiding in the shadows behind the last bank. Perhaps it's a cop grabbing a quick nap?_

It was highly unlikely. The department's lunchroom had a couple of bunks in a back room which where a lot more comfortable than a narrow bench over cold concrete. Drizzt snorted to himself when he saw nothing in his vicinity and reminded him self that he was on a tight schedule and that it would be best to get moving. With that in mind, Drizzt turned back to the bench and scooped up the bags then turned to leave.

"Young master Drizzt Do'Urden I presume?" The voice came from a shadow that seemed to have separated itself from the back of the room. It stepped forward into the dim light and was revealed to be a tall and attractive woman with a soft and seductive musical voice. The woman appeared to be in her mid thirties with a lusciously slim frame, long golden blond hair and deep blue eyes. She was wearing a small black trench coat that hugged her curves and knee high black heeled boots. A dominatrix in an S&M club suddenly ran through Drizzt's head and he flushed slightly at the disturbing thought. He braised himself for action as he sized the stranger up and realized that he didn't recognize her.

"Yes, I am Drizzt. And who, may I ask, are you?" he said warily.

The woman stepped toward him as a smile slowly made its way across her pretty face. _"_I have something for you," she said softly.

Drizzt regarded her suspiciously as he narrowed his eyes and shifted automatically into a defensive position, balancing his weight on the balls of his feet. "Sorry, but you have nothing that I want. I don't even know who the hell you are but I just dare you to try something. Need I warn you that you're in a police station... "

He trailed off as she shook her head, grinning broadly as her long golden locks bounced around her head, dark eyes twinkling with mirth. "You misunderstand my intentions, young Ranger. Please excuse my manners. My name is Trenell and let's just say that I'm ... a friend to the S.T.A.R.S."

Drizzt steadily eased his posture and loosened his stance slightly, watching this strange and tempting woman for even a flicker of movement. He didn't really feel threatened by her but. . .

_How did she know who I was?_

"Your eyes." She said softly, almost as if she had read his mind. "I'd know those eyes anywhere. The Hero with the violet eyes. They really are quite lovely…alluring in fact."

The look she gave him suddenly made Drizzt's cheeks flare with heat. Was she coming on to him? He gulped silently, trying to cover up his sudden nervousness. His brothers had always said he was too shy for his own good.

"What do you want?"

Trenell smiled wider. "Yes, straight to the point since you seem to be on a rather tight schedule." She slowly reached into a pocket on her coat and pulled out what looked like a small black cell phone. "Though it's not what I want that's important. Well, at least not right now…" She gave him an appraising once over and Drizzt felt his face flush once more at her appreciative glance. She was coming on to him. Quite strongly at that.

"I think you should have this."

Drizzt glanced quickly at the item she held in her delicate hand then quickly met her gaze with his own.

"What for?"

"I've assembled a few documents that you should find compelling if not intriguing." She held out the device to him as she spoke.

Drizzt reached for it carefully, realizing as he did so that it was a mini-disk reader, a very expensive piece of hardware. Trenell was well financed, whoever she was. That much was obvious just by looking at her. The woman radiated class and wealth.

Drizzt gave the object a quick glance before he tucked it into his hip pack, suddenly more than a little curious. "Who sent you?"

The blond woman casually shook her head. "I'm afraid that's not important at the moment either. Although I will say that there are a lot of very important people watching Baldur's Gate right now."

"Oh? And I don't suppose these people are "friends" of the S.T.A.R.S. too, eh my dear Trenell?"

Trenell laughed a soft musicale laugh. "So many questions, so little time my dear Do'Urden. Just read the files. And if I were you, I wouldn't mention this conversation to anyone. Even those you think you can trust the most. It could have rather serious consequences." She flashed him one more seductive and praiseful glance and then turned and walked toward the door in the back of the room, turning back to him as she reached for the knob. Trenell's fine and lovely features suddenly lost all trace of her former humor and her gaze became serious and intense. "And one more thing, young Drizzt, and pay attention because I won't say this again. It is critical, and make no mistake, that not everyone can be trusted, and not everyone is who they appear to be. Even the people you think you know. Even the people most dear to you. If you want to stay alive, you'll do well to remember that." With that said, Trenell opened the door and was gone.

Drizzt stared after her, his mind racing in a million different directions at once. He felt like he was just caught in some melodramatic novel and had just met the beautiful and mysterious stranger. It was down right laughable, and yet-

_She just handed you several thousands of dollars worth of equipment with a straight face and told you to watch your back. How could you think she'd be kidding about something like that?_

He didn't know what to think and, in truth, didn't even have time to think. The rest of the Alpha team was probably assembled, waiting, and wondering where the hell he was. Drizzt shouldered the heavy bags once more and hurried out the door, praying to the Goddess Melikki that he wasn't too late.

They had gotten the weapons loaded and secured on board the helicopter and Jarlaxle was starting to get impatient. Although his eyes were hidden by dark sunglasses, Entreri could see it in his Captain's stance and in the way he kept his head cocked toward the building. The helicopter was prepped and ready, the blades whipping warm, humid air through the tight compartment. With the door open, the sound of the engine drowned out any attempt at conversation. There was nothing to do but wait.

...

_Dammit Do'Urden, where the hell are you?_

As Entreri finished that last thought, Drizzt emerged from the building and sprinted toward them with the Alpha gear in his arms and an apologetic look on his face. Jarlaxle jumped down from his perch in the passenger side of the cockpit to help him, taking one of the stuffed bags as the other Drow climbed aboard.

Jarlaxle followed him in, closing the double hatches behind them. Instantly, the roar of the turbine engine was muted to a dull thrum.

"Was there a problem Drizzt?" The Drow Captain didn't sound angry but there was an edge to his voice that suggested he wasn't all that happy either.

Drizzt shook his head hurriedly. "Uh, no, but one of the lockers were stuck. I had a hell of a time getting the key to work."

The captain stared at him for a moment, as if deciding whether or not to give him a hard time about it but then shrugged instead. "I'll call maintenance when we get back. Go ahead and distribute the gear."

He then moved back to the front and picked up a headset, putting it on as he took his seat next to the young pilot as Drizzt started passing out the vests.

...

The helicopter slowly lifted from the helipad, the old BGPD building falling away as Berg'inyon Baenre positioned them to head northwest. Entreri crouched down next to Drizzt after donning his vest, helping the younger Do'Urden sort through the gloves and belts as they sped over the city toward the surrounding forestry. Baldur's Gate's docks where in the opposite direction, a port for ships to come and refuel or to bring any number of goods to sell and barter in the markets of the city. The busy, crowded streets of Baldur's Gate below quickly gave way to the suburbs on the outside of the city, with wide dirty streets and quiet houses set amidst acres of browning grass and shrubs and old wooden fences. An evening haze had settled over the extensive but secluded community, giving it an unreal almost dream-like quality.

Minutes passed in silence as the Alphas prepared themselves and belted in, each team member preoccupied with his own thoughts and not a word passed between them.

_With any luck, the Bravo team's helicopter had suffered only a minor mechanical failure. Dinin would have set it down in one of the scraggly open fields that dotted the forest and was probably up to his elbows in grease by now, cursing at the engine as they waited for Alpha to show. Without the bird in working order, Uthengental wouldn't start the proposed search._

_As for the alternative . . ._

Entreri grimaced, not wanting to consider the fact that there just may be alternatives. He had once seen the aftermath of a serious chopper crash and never wanted to see it again. The pilot's error had led to the fall of a Huey carrying eleven men to a training mission and by the time the rescuers had arrived, there had been nothing left but charred, smoking bones amidst the fiery debris leaving behind a sweet, sticky smell of gasoline-roasted flesh that clung heavily in the blackened air. Even the ground had been burning, and that was the image that had haunted his dreams for months afterwards with the earth on fire and the chemical flames devouring the very soil beneath his bloody boots.

There was a slight dip in their altitude as Berg'inyon adjusted the rotor pitch, jolting him out of the unpleasant memory. Artemis gazed out of the small window and saw the ragged outskirts of the forests just out side the bordering boundaries of Baldur's Gate slipped by below, the orange markers of the police blockade standing out against the thick muted green of the trees. Twilight was finally setting in, casting the forest into a growing and heavy shadow.

_"_ETA in three minutes." Berg'inyon called back, and Entreri looked around the cabin, noting the silent and grim expressions of his teammates. Masoj had tied his short white hair back into a small ponytail and was intently re-lacing his boots and Zaknefien gently rubbed his favored Colt Python with a soft cloth as he stared attentively out the hatch window.

Entreri allowed his gaze to wander over the faces of his comrades until his pale silver eyes rested upon Drizzt and was mildly surprised to find him staring back at him thoughtfully. The Drow was sitting on the same bench as he was and he smiled momentarily, almost nervously as Entreri caught his soft violet gaze and held it with his cold steel one. Drizzt averted his eyes to gaze at his knees for a brief moment before he abruptly unfastened his seat belt and moved to sit closer to the former assassin. Entreri caught the faint sent of Drizzt's skin, the soft and subtle smell of lavender momentarily filling his senses.

"Entreri, can I please ask you something?"

When the assassin didn't answer but continued to watch him curiously, Drizzt pressed on knowing that that would be the only incentive he would get from this silent and stoic man.

"What you've been saying about there possibly being external factors in these cases..." His already soft voice was pitched into such a low whisper, that Artemis had to lean in even closer to the Drow to hear what Drizzt had to say over the throbbing of the engine. The young ranger glanced around quickly at the others, as if to make sure that no one was listening to their little private discussion, then looked deep into Entreri's eyes, making sure to keep his own carefully guarded.

"I think you may have something there," he said silently, "and I'm starting to think that it might not be such a good idea to talk so openly about it."

Entreri's heart seemed to have suddenly missed a beat.

"Why? Did something happen?" He whispered urgently, his face a reflection of the worry he felt inside.

Drizzt shook his head quickly, not wanting to further the anxiety that he knew the man was already feeling. Entreri eyed him unconvincingly but the Drow's finely chiseled features gave away nothing. "No but I've been thinking that maybe you should watch what you say. There's a good chance that not everyone who has been listening is on our side of this thing."

Entreri frowned, understanding the wisdom of his words but also a bit unsure as to what Drizzt was trying to tell him. "The only people I've said anything to are on the case."

Drizzt's gaze didn't so much as waver but made a quick sweep over the man's handsome face before his violet eyes met Entreri's steel gray ones once more. Only then did Artemis suddenly realized what his companion was implying.

_Gods! And they say I'm paranoid!_

"Look Do'Urden, we know these people. Even if we didn't, the S.T.A.R.S. have psychological profiles, criminal records, and background checks on each and every member as well as history checks and personal references. There's no way it could happen."

He didn't sound entirely convinced of his own words though. Drizzt sighed in frustration as he sat back, blowing a strand of stray white hair from the front of his face. "Ugh, never mind, ok? Just forget I said anything. I just . . . look, I just want you to watch yourself, that's all, alright?"

"All right, my lovelies, look alive! We're coming up on sector twenty-two and they could be anywhere."

At Jarlaxle's interruption, Drizzt gave his human companion one final meaningful glance and then moved to one of the windows. Entreri did so as well and Masoj and Zaknefien took to searching on the other side of the small and somewhat cramped cabin. Looking out the small window, Artemis scanned the deepening dusk with a practiced and automatic sweep of his pale grey eyes, unable to think about anything else at the moment other than what Drizzt had said. He supposed he should be grateful that he wasn't the only one who suspected some kind of a cover up, but why hadn't the young ranger said anything before?

But to warn him against the S.T.A.R.S., their very own teammates…

Then again, Entreri realized that this scenario was very familiar and with the kind of life he had lived in his long 48 years, he was no stranger to suspecting one of his comrades of possible treachery. It was part of his unshakable assassin's credo to trust no one. And yet…

_Drizzt knows something._

Entreri was sure of it. He had to. It was the only explanation that made any sense. He decided then that after they picked up the missing Bravo team, he'd talk to him again and try to convince him to tell him everything he knew. Even if he had to beat it out of him. They actually had quite a, shall one say, violent history together. Entreri smirked to him self as he remembered the good old days. When things where easier and simpler. But right now, Artemis had to keep Drizzt from saying anything to their rather talkative Captain. Going to Jarlaxle with this information could be potentially disastrous. Keeping it between the two of them would be their best bet. With the both of them pushing for answers, something was bound to show up.

He stared out at the seemingly endless sea of trees as the helicopter skimmed lower, forcing his full attention to the search. The Spencer estate had to be close, though he couldn't see it in the fading light.

Thoughts of his beloved Calihye's mysterious disappearance, Baldur's Gate's council's sneaky operations, and now Drizzt's strange warning went in circles through his restless mind, trying to break his focus, but he refused to give in even through his exhausted state. He was still worried about the Bravos but as the trees swept by in a sea of soft and subtle shades of green, he was becoming more and more convinced that they weren't in any serious trouble. It was probably nothing worse than a crossed wire and Dinin had probably just shut it down to make repairs.

Then he saw it less than a mile away, even as Drizzt's elegant hand pointed and he spoke his name, his concern turned to cold dread.

"Entreri! Over there!"

An oily plume of black smoke boiled up through the last remnants of daylight, staining the sky like a promise of death.

...

_Gods!_

Zak's firm jaw clenched as he stared at the stream of smoke that rose up from the trees, feeling a little more than sick.

"Captain, over there, two o'clock sharp!" Entreri called, the chopper turning to head for the dark smudge that could only promise disaster.

Jarlaxle moved back into the cabin, still wearing his shades. He stepped to the window and spoke quietly, his voice subdued. "I suggest that we not assume the worst. There's a possibility that a fire broke out after they landed or that they started the fire on purpose, as a signal."

Zak wished he could believe him but even Jarlaxle wasn't that naïve. They all knew better. With the bird shut down, a fire starting on its own was very unlikely and if the Bravos wanted to signal, they would've used flares. And wood didn't make that kind of smoke. . . .

"Whatever the case, we won't know till we get down there. Now if I could have your full attention, please."

Everyone turned away from the windows as their Captain addressed them promptly. Zak noted that Entreri, Drizzt, and Masoj all wore the same expression he imagined he did: shocked disbelief. It was normal. S.T.A.R.S. sometimes got hurt in the line of duty. It was part of the job after all and one couldn't be scratch free all the time, but accidents like this . . .

Jarlaxle's only visible sign of distress was the set of his mouth, a thin, grim line against his ebony skin. He removed his shades and reached a hand into his vest pocket, withdrew his favored eye patch, and donned it over one of his ruby red eyes that seemed to burn with smoldering fires as it caught the last raise of the sun from the blazing sunset.

"Alright, my beauties, listen up. We've got people down there in a potentially hostile environment. I want all of you armed and I want an organized approach with a standard fanning maneuver as soon as we set down. Zak, I want you taking point."

Zaknefien nodded his understanding, pulling himself together. Jarlaxle was right; now was not the time to get emotional. Getting emotional on the job, more often than not, often lead to a catastrophe.

"Baenre's going to set us down as close to the site as he can get. We're gonna set down in what looks like a small clearing about fifty meters south of their last coordinates. He'll stay with the chopper and keep it warm in case of any emergencies. Any questions?"

They hardly dared to breathe as Jarlaxle nodded briskly. "Good. Zak, load us up. We can leave the rest of the gear on board and come back for it should the need arise."

The captain stepped to the front to give Berg his orders while Drizzt, Entreri, and Masoj turned to Zak expectantly. As weapons specialist, he checked the firearms in and out to make double sure that all was in working order then proceeded to hand them to each S.T.A.R.S. team member. Zak was an expert and it was his job to keep them in prime condition.

Once that was done, Zak turned to the cabinet next to the outer hatch and unhooked the latch, exposing six Beretta 9mm handguns on a metal rack, cleaned and sighted only yesterday. Each weapon held fifteen rounds, semi jacketed hollow points. It was a good gun, though Zak preferred his Python which dealt a much bigger punch with.357 rounds. He quickly distributed the weapons, passing out three loaded clips with each.

"I hope we won't have need for these, "Masoj said as he slapped in a clip. Drizzt nodded in agreement. Zak patted the two younger Drow on the shoulder understandingly. He felt the same though just because he paid his dues to the NRA didn't mean he was some trigger-happy Looney looking to kill. He just liked guns. A lot.

Jarlaxle joined them again and, after receiving his weapons and ammo from the former Weapons Master of house Do'Urden, the five of them stood at the hatch, waiting for Berg'inyon to bring them in. As they neared the plume of smoke, the helicopter's whirling blades pushed it down and out, creating a black fog that blended into the heavy shadows of the trees. Any chance of spotting the downed vehicle from the air was lost to the smoke and dusk.

Berg'inyon swung them around and settled the bird into a scraggy patch of tall grass which whirled around wildly from the forced wind. Even as the rails wobbled to the ground, Zak had his hand on the latch, ready to move out when he felt a warm hand fall onto his shoulder reassuringly. Zak turned and saw Entreri looking at him intently.

"We're right behind you Zak." Entreri said and Zak nodded his understanding. He wasn't worried with his team backing him up. All he was concerned with was the Bravo team's situation. Uthengental and Dantrag had been good friends of his and all though Dinnin and Nelfien weren't his sons by blood…

_Please, just hang in there a little longer. We're on our way!_

With one hand on the butt of his Colt, Zak pulled the handle and stepped out into the humid twilight of Baldur's Gate's bordering forest, ready, he hoped, for anything that may come his way.


	4. Mission 4: Desserted in the dead zone

Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

They spread out and started north with Jarlaxle D'Arthre and Artemis Entreri behind and to Zak's left while his son and Masoj Hunett stayed on his right. Directly in front of them was a sparse strand of trees, and as the Alpha's chopper blades revved down, Drizzt could smell burning fuel as he spotted wisps of smoke curling through the foliage.

They moved quickly through the wooded area as their visibility dropped off sharply beneath the needled branches of the towering evergreens. The warm scents of pine and earth were overshadowed by the unpleasant smell of burning, the acrid odor growing stronger with each step. From the dim light filtering through the dense foliage, Drizzt saw that there was another clearing ahead, high with brittle grasses.

"I see it! Dead ahead, Captain!"

Drizzt's heart felt like it had sped up a million miles an hour when he heard his father's excited shout. Suddenly, they were all running, hurrying to catch up to their point man.

As he emerged from the copse of trees, with Masoj beside him, he could see Zak was already at the downed chopper with Entreri and Jarlaxle in hot pursuit. Smoke was still rising from the silent wreck, but it was thinning. If there had been a fire, it had died out before they had arrived.

Drizzt and Masoj reached the others and had to stop, staring as no one dared to speak as they surveyed the scene. The long, wide body of the helicopter was intact, not a bent or a scratch visible. The port-landing rail looked a bit dented, but besides that and the dying haze of smoke from the motor, there seemed to be nothing wrong with it. The hatches stood open, the beam from Jarlaxle's small flashlight showing them an undamaged cabin. From what the former ranger could see, most of the Bravo's gear was still on board.

_What the hell is going on here?_

It didn't make any sense.

_It hadn't been fifteen minutes since their last transmission; if anyone had been injured, they would have stayed. And if they had decided to leave then why did they leave their equipment behind?_

Jarlaxle handed the light to Masoj and nodded toward the cockpit. "Check it out. The rest of you, spread out. I want clues; tracks, shell casings, signs of struggle, anything! You find something, I want to know immediately. And above all else, stay alert."

Drizzt hesitated a moment, staring at the smoking chopper and wondering what could have happened.

_Uthengental had said something about a malfunction. Okay, if that was so, possibility number one could be that the Bravos had set down. Then what? What would have made them abandon their best chance of being found, leaving behind emergency kits, weaponry… _

Drizzt saw a couple of bullet-proof vests crumpled next to the hatch and shook his head, adding it to growing list of seemingly irrational and unexplainable events. He turned to join the search as Masoj hopped down out of the cockpit, looking as bewildered and uncertain as Drizzt him self felt. He waited to hear what Masoj had to report as the Drow handed the light back to Jarlaxle, shrugging nervously.

"I have no idea as to what happened. The bent rail suggests a forced landing, but except for the electrical system, everything appears to be in order."

Jarlaxle sighed and scratched his clean shaven head in a baffled manner. He raised his voice then, so the others could hear as he gave the next order. "Circle out, people, three meters apart and widen as we go! I want a thorough search!"

Drizzt nodded and moved over to take up a position between Entreri and Zaknefien, both men already scanning the ground at their feet as they slowly moved east and northeast of the helicopter. Jarlaxle stepped into the cabin, double checking the young Hunett's efforts, probing the darkness with his mini flashlight. Masoj headed west into the waiting and rapidly darkening woods, a sense of foreboding dread creeping its way into his stomach and settling there.

Dry and brittle twigs, leaves, and grass crackled underfoot as they widened their circle, the only sound in the still, warm air except for the distant hum of the Alpha helicopter engine. Drizzt used his boots to search through the thick loam and undergrowth, brushing the tall grasses aside with each step. The trained ranger's senses told him that in another few minutes it would be too dark to see anything clearly and they would need to break out the flashlights. Drizzt contemplated why the Bravo's would leave theirs behind…

Drizzt suddenly stopped, his keen elfin ears listening. As a ranger, his acute connection to the earth and wilderness around him was uncanny. He could sense and feel the presence of animals and any other living creature around him; could feel and sense their feelings, their pain and suffering. He could even speak to the spirits that resided in the very trees. But as he listened, straining to hear some semblance of life in this eerily empty forest, he found that there was nothing there.

The soft sighing of the breeze, the faint crackling steps of the other Alpha members, and the faint drone of their choppers engine was all that could be heard and nothing else. Not a chirp or a single chatter. Absolutely nothing. It was as silent as death. They were in the woods in the middle of summer. Where were all the animals and insects? The forest was unnaturally still with the only sounds coming from the searchers. For the first time since they had set down in this gloomy and spooky place, Drizzt found that he was afraid.

As he was about to call out to the others, Masoj shrieked from somewhere behind them, his voice high and cracking, causing the rest of the team to jump at the unexpected sound and whirl around in his direction, weapons poised and aimed.

"Yaahhhh!! Over here!!"

Drizzt started jogging back and saw Entreri and Zak do the same. Jarlaxle, who was still by the helicopter when Masoj had cried out, had also drawn his weapon and held it pointing in front of him as he broke into a run.

In the murky and quickly fading light, Drizzt could just make out Masoj's shadowy form as the Drow appeared to be sitting down in a slanted position, hand out stretched in front of him as he pointed at something on the ground before him in the high grass near some trees a hundred feet past the downed helicopter. Instinctively, Drizzt double-timed his pace, suddenly overwhelmed by a sense of encroaching doom. He and the others caught up with Jarlaxle as they rushed to Masoj's side.

Masoj stayed immobile in his sprawled position, his body quivered in uncontrollable fear and his hand was trembling as he continued to point with a long finger at the ground before him, his eyes wide with horror. For a split-second, the ranger's mind couldn't accept what he saw laying on the ground in front of the petrified Hunett, as he neared.

They were only a few yards from their companion but their pace suddenly slowed as they saw what lay in the dirt.

It was a S.T.A.R.S. handgun…

With a disembodied, pale skinned hand curled around its handle.

...

"What…the…fuck?" Entreri whispered under his breath as the beam from his flashlight rested upon the grotesque object.

The hand appeared to have been hacked clean from the wrist, the patch of earth around it muddy with bloody soil. As they gawked at the scene in stunned silence, there was a sudden deep and guttural snarl from behind their prone companion emanating from darkness of the trees. A terrible animalistic growling joined by a second raspier one that seemed to grow in crescendo which was quickly followed by a terrifying, throaty shriek, and then the woods suddenly came alive as several dark, powerful shapes erupted from the dark forestry, lunging at Masoj from behind.

"MASOJ!!"

With Drizzt's scream ringing in his ears, Entreri dropped his light and stopped his mad dash to aid their fallen comrade and took aim, trying to get a clear shot at the raging beasts that were attacking the helpless Drow. Jarlaxle's own flashlight sent a beam of light over the wildly thrashing bodies of the creatures and illuminated a horrific nightmare.

Masoj's body was completely hidden from view by the three animals that tore at him, ripping him apart with viciously gnashing, dripping jaws. For a second, Entreri thought they were dogs. Or at least had been at one point. They were the size of German Sheppards but didn't look like any he had ever seen before. In fact, these things didn't look like anything he had ever seen before in his life. These things had no fur, and the little bit of grisly skin they boasted was shredded and torn to nothing but ribbons that hung from wet, bloody sinew and muscle.

Jarlaxle's light wavered at the sight, the dog like creatures shrieking and snapping in a frenzy of bloodlust. Then Masoj screamed one last time, a burbling, liquid sound as he flailed weakly at his savage attackers, blood pouring from his torn and tattered body. It was like watching a swarm of piranhas have at a wounded fish. It was the ghastly scream of the dying Drow that suddenly threw him back into this horrible reality. Realizing that he had hesitated one second to long, Entreri targeted and opened fire.

Nine rounds, three for each monstrosity, smacked wetly into the wretched bodies with a sickening, muted thud. There was a high-pitched yelp from one of the beasts that he scored a fatal hit on and it went down, its sides heaving in its last gasps for breath that wouldn't come. The other two animals continued their assault, displaying complete indifference to the stinging rain of lead that peppered their twisted bodies. As Entreri watched in horror, one of the snarling demon dogs lunged forward and ripped out Masoj's throat, almost decapitating him as blood spurted from the brutal wound, showering the surrounding grass and a traumatized Drizzt, who had been the closest to their fallen teammate, in a spray of red. There was nothing left but a gapping hole and a thin strip of skin keeping the Drow's had on his shoulders, the glistening slickness of bone put on display as the severed spinal cord lolled out and hung limply.

Drizzt backpedaled franticly to put some distance between him self and these hell spawned creatures and the S.T.A.R.S. numbly opened fire, sending a hail of explosive fire at Masoj's killers. Red spatters burst into the chill night air as the hell hounds continued their ruthless assault on the writhing corpse, ignoring the bullets that riddled their tormented frames. Entreri took a steadying breath to try and calm his shattered nerves and took careful, measured aim instead of the panicked rattled shots he had token up with the other S.T.A.R.S. a moment before and let fly, counting each thunderous bang as his finger squeezed the trigger. One. Two. Three. And four. That was all he needed. Two bullets for each monster: one for the heart and one for the brain. His aim was true and, with a final series of harsh, barking yelps, they fell to the gory soil and didn't rise again.

"Hold your fire!"

Entreri removed his finger from the trigger but continued to point the handgun at the fallen creatures, ready to blow them apart the second one so much as twitched. Only one of them was still breathing, growling softly through its pained and panting gasps. The other two sprawled lifelessly next to Masoj's mutilated body.

_They should've been dead with the first shots! What the hell are they?_

Jarlaxle had taken a single, hesitant step toward the slaughter in front of them when the blackened sky was suddenly shattered all around them by deep, echoing howls. The crisp night air was filled with the shrill primeval calls of their predators coming at the S.T.A.R.S. from all directions.

"_**BACK TO THE CHOPPER! MOVE IT OR LOSE IT PEOPLE!!"**_ The former mercenary cried out urgently.

Entreri turned and ran, Zak and Drizzt in front of him and Jarlaxle behind, bringing up the rear. The four of them raced through the dark trees, unseen branches slapping at them as the howls grew louder and more frenzied. They had their prey on the run and now the chase would begin.

Jarlaxle half turned and fired blindly into the woods behind him as they stumbled toward the waiting helicopter, its blades already spinning. Entreri felt a profound relief sweep through him as he saw the chopper ready for take off as they scrambled out of the surrounding woodwork and into open ground. Berg'inyon must have heard their gun shots and prepared for take off in case the situation turned ugly. They still had a chance if they could only get to the chopper in one piece…

Artemis could hear the creatures behind them now, the sharp rustling of the undergrowth as lean, muscular bodies tore through the trees, quickly gaining ground. He could also see the youngest Baenre's terrified, wide-eyed face through the glass front of the helicopter, the reflected lights of the control panel casting a greenish glow across his panicked features. He was shouting something, but the roar of the engine drowned everything out, the blast of wind churning the field into a rippling sea, whipping their hair in and out of their sweat streaked faces.

Entreri had the sudden and sickening feeling of treachery as he saw the swift and nervous shift of Berg'inyon's eyes flickering from the controls in is hands to his teammates rushing toward him and, undoubtedly, the horrors that followed in hot pursuit.

_Oh, don't you even dare…_

He wouldn't! He couldn't! They were so close! Just another fifty feet! They were almost there!

Then red and silver met one last time in a meaningful glance and Entreri had his answer.

He would.

Zaknefien and Drizzt suddenly realized, too, what must have just went through their volatile pilot's mind and put on a burst of speed. As they closed the distance between themselves and their only hope for survival, the helicopter suddenly jerked into the air, accelerating wildly as the assassin caught a final glimpse of their betrayer's face and could clearly see the blind terror there, the unthinking panic that had gripped him as he clawed at the controls.

"NO! YOU FUCKING BASTURD!!" Entreri screamed, but the wobbling rails were already out of reach by the time Zak, Drizzt, and Entreri got in range, the chopper pitching forward and away from them through the thundering darkness. Jarlaxle caught up to them, his head craned up wards in angry, stunned, disbelief as his trot slowed to a gradual stop beside the last remaining members of his squad.

They were going to die.

_Damn you, Baenre!_

Jarlaxle's sharp hearing picked up the sound of a twig snapping close by. Turning, he fired into the darkness and was rewarded with a squeal of pain from one of their pursuers. There was at least four more behind, gaining on them rapidly and they had just lost their only means of escape. Or had they?

"Keep going!" he shouted, trying to get his bearings as they stumbled on, the piercing shrieks of the unholy beasts urging them to go ever faster. He had no idea how long they could keep running as they were. He had to think and do it quick. The moon had surfaced, full and luminous, aiding them in terms of light for they couldn't use their flashlights in this situation. In truth they didn't really need to for they had infrared vision allowing them to see clearly in the pitch blackness of the night. Well, at least three of them did…

...

Jarlaxle suddenly found himself for the first time in all his time knowing the assassin, that he was deathly frightened for him. The man was practically running blind out here with little to no visibility, guessing as he went and narrowly missing trees and rocks. One trip or snag was all it would take and then the creatures would tare him apart like they did Masoj…

He shuddered at the horrible thought. Artemis Entreri had been the Drow mercenary's closest friend for many years now. If something ever happened to him…

Not only was visibility an issue here, but, even though the man kept himself in outstanding physical condition, Entreri wasn't as young as he used to be and he was pushing fifty. His heart might give out on him before his legs did and that would spell disaster. With the man's fiery spirit and uncanny determination, Jarlaxle sometimes forgot he was human.

But that was exactly what he was. Human. And as such, he was the most vulnerable on his team at the moment. With that thought in mind, Jarlaxle fired behind him again, the shot going wide as his aim was thrown astray and saw another shadowy form join the hunt. The dogs were brutally fast. They didn't stand a chance, unless…

_We gotta be able to make it to the mansion! It's our only hope!_

"Veer to the right!" He yelled, hoping that his sense of direction was still intact. They couldn't outrun the creatures, but maybe they could keep them at bay long enough to reach cover. He spun and fired the last rounds in his clip. "Empty!"

Ejecting the spent magazine, the Drow captain fumbled for another one tucked into his belt as both Zak and Drizzt took up the defense, firing past him and into the closing pack. Jarlaxle slapped in the fresh clip as they reached the edge of overgrown clearing and plunged into another dark strand of trees. For one horrifying second, Jarlaxle thought they had lost Entreri for he couldn't be seen anywhere. Then he saw him, blindly racing as fast as he could from the beast that was quickly closing in on him from behind, nimbly dodging and jumping over obstacles a split second before collision.

Jarlaxle had to admit that he was impressed. Entreri wasn't even bothering to make any attempts at looking back, knowing full well that he wouldn't be able to see a thing. Completely blind, he literally played it by ear and guessing where his would be attacker was and using his acute reflexes to alter his course at the last possible second keeping him just a hair's breath out of the reach of slobbering, snapping jaws. Jarlaxle knew that the man wouldn't chance a shot in zero visibility when there was the possibility of hitting his comrades and so the Drow captain took the shot for him, nailing the beast in the back of its head and the thing fell to the earth with out a sound.

The four of them stumbled and dodged through the woods, tripping on uneven ground as the killer dogs came on. Lungs aching for air, Jarlaxle pressed on even harder, trying to get away from the smell of the fetid, rotting stench of the beasts. As they narrowed the distance and began to close in, he somehow found the capacity to run faster.

_We should have been there by now. We gotta be close…_

Entreri saw it first through the thinning shadows of the trees, the looming monstrosity back-lit by the eerie sight of the full moon. "The house! Run for the house!" He shouted as he gasped painfully. It felt as if his lungs were going to burst and his heart collapse. He wasn't sure on how much longer he could keep this up but he had to focus on that one pillar of hope in front of him. He could make it. He had too!

It looked abandoned from the outside, the weathered wood and stone of the giant mansion crumbling and dark. The full size of the structure was cloaked by the shadowy, overgrown hedges that surrounded it, isolating it from the rest of the forest. A massive outset front porch presented double doors, their only hope for sanctuary.

As his legs pumped faster, his feet pounding the earth beneath him, Jarlaxle actually heard the snap of powerful jaws just behind him, aimed at his heels and fired at the sound, instinctively aiming where his sharp ears pin pointed his assailant to be as he ran for the front of the mansion. With a gurgling yelp, the creature fell away, and the rest of the howls that rent the night air rose to a frenzied pitch with the thrill of the chase.

Drizzt reached the doors first, slamming into the heavy wood with one shoulder as he snatched at the handles. Amazingly, they crashed open and brightness from the lit lights inside spilled out across the stone steps to the porch, lighting the path for the other three. He turned and started firing, providing cover as the three gasping men ran for the opening in the darkness.

They made it one by one, to the mansion, with Drizzt diving in last and Zak throwing his full weight against the door, wedging it closed against the enraged snarls of the creatures as they closed the distance to the large heavy doors. He collapsed against it with his face streaked with glistening sweat, as Entreri found the entry's steel deadbolt and slid it home, collapsing against the wall to steady him self afterwards.

They had made it. Outside, the dogs howled and scrabbled uselessly at the doors that separated them from their quarry.

Jarlaxle took a deep breath of the cool, quiet air that filled the well-lit room and exhaled sharply. As he'd already known, the Spencer house wasn't abandoned. And now that they were here, all his careful planning was for nothing. The Drow captain silently cursed Berg'inyon Baenre not for the first time that night and wondered if they were any better off inside than out.


	5. Mission 5: The Spencer estate

Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

From Drizzt's position on the floor where he sat, he took in their new surroundings as he caught his breath, feeling like he was a character from one of Entreri's novels, trapped in a nightmare that had just taken a turn into a grand fantasy. Everything from wild, howling monsters, Masoj's sudden death, a terrifying run through the dark woods, and now this. He took stock of the well lit room as he suddenly remembered something. This must be the infamous Spencer Estate!

_I thought this place was supposed to be deserted?_

It was a palace, pure and simple. The room they had escaped into was the epitome of lavish. It was huge, easily bigger than Drizzt's entire house back in Mezoberannzan, tiled in a subtle, grey-flecked marble and dominated by a wide, carpeted staircase that led to a second-floor balcony. Arched marble pillars lined the ornate hall, supporting the dark, heavy wood balustrade of the upper floor. Fluted wall sconces cast funnels of light across walls of cream, trimmed in oar and offset by the deep burnt ocher of the carpeting. In short, it was magnificent.

"What's all this?" Zak muttered as he, too, looked around in awe, his breath coming back to him. No one seemed to know the answer.

Drizzt took a deep breath and decided immediately that he didn't like this place. There was a sense of…wrongness to the vast room, an atmosphere of vague oppression. It felt haunted somehow, though by who or what, he couldn't say.

_But it sure beats the hell out of getting eaten by mutant dogs, though, I'll give it that much. _

And then the memory of what he had witness came rushing back to him as he looked down at his blood spattered Kevlar vest and hands, the short sleeves of his ash grey shirt and his bare arms speckled with it.

_Gods above! Poor Masoj! There hadn't been enough time to mourn him, and there isn't time now. But he will be missed. No one deserved to die in such a manner. No one._

The sound of harsh, labored breathing filled the now quiet room and all eyes went to Entreri who stood with his back pressed firmly against the wall, his chest heaving with labored and pain filled gasps as he struggled for air that seem to refuse to come. Drizzt got to him first, concern evident in his wide lavender eyes as he peered into the human's down cast face. They all had the sudden fear that the stress and strain from the night's events may have been too much for him to handle. A heart attack was inevitable.

"Artemis, breath! Sit down for a second and catch your breath."

Entreri slid down the wall limply, slumping forward in his seated position, knees bent as he weakly rested his elbows on top of them, forcing air into his burning lungs. Jarlaxle and Zaknefien came to his side then, worried expressions plastered on their faces as they watched him struggle to breath for a few seconds more. Drizzt knelt down beside him, a gentle hand resting on his friend's trembling shoulder.

"Entreri? Are you ok?"

His hand was suddenly, if not weakly, smacked away as Entreri raised his head and gave them a strained and equally weak smile. He was extremely pale and was sweating profusely but the rueful smirk he flashed them instantly eased their fears of him having a heart attack. He would be fine. He was severely winded, which was understandable considering what they had all just went through but he would live to fight another day. It was a promise that was spoken with the fire of determination in his pale silver eyes.

"Look…at you guys… fussing… over… an old… man like me. I'm…fine… just…need… rest…breather…whoooooooo." He panted as his breath slowly returned and he tried to calm the agonizing hammering of his heart.

The other three released a sigh of relief that faintly echoed off the walls of the huge room. Drizzt slowly stood and took another look around, gun still in hand. Through that entire endeavor he hadn't dared to let it go from his grasp and didn't dare do so now. They weren't out of deep water yet. He cautiously made his way toward the stairs, clutching his handgun in both hands in a readied position, his footsteps muffled by the plush carpet that led from the front door. There was an antique typewriter on a small table to the right of the steps, a blank sheet of paper spooled into the works. To Drizzt, it seemed strangely out of place with the rest of the decorum. The expansive hall was otherwise empty.

He turned back toward the others, wondering what their take on all this was and saw that Zak and Entreri both looked uncertain, their faces flushed with perspiration trickling down their brows as they surveyed the room. Jarlaxle was crouched by the front door, examining one of the latches.

After a close examination, he stood and absently switched his elaborate eye patch over to his other eye, seeming as detached as ever. "The wood around the lock is splintered. Somebody broke this door open before we got here."

Zaknefien looked hopeful. "You think the Bravos made it here?"

Jarlaxle nodded. "That's what I'm hoping. Help should be on the way, if my assumption of our "friend" Berg is correct and he even bothered to call it in."

His voice dripped sarcasm, and Drizzt could feel his own anger kindling. Berg'inyon had screwed up big time and had almost cost them their lives. There was no excuse for what he'd done. He would pay dearly for his insubordination if they ever got out of this alive.

Jarlaxle deftly wiped cold sweat from his bare head as he continued, walking across the room toward one of the two doors on the west wall. He rattled the handle, but it didn't open. "It's not safe to go back out, that much is painfully obvious. Until the cavalry shows up, we might as well take a look around. It is also obvious that somebody's been keeping this place up, though why and for how long one can only guess."

He trailed off as he walked back toward what was left of their little group.

"How's our ammo?"

Drizzt ejected the clip from his Beretta and counted: three rounds left plus the two loaded magazines on his belt.

"Thirty-three shots." He said dejectedly.

"I have twenty-two left." Entreri said, his disappointment evident. "I should have preserved my rounds better…"

"At least you faired better than me. I have seventeen left to my name." Jarlaxle stated flatly.

Zak had two racked speed loaders for his Colt, plus an extra handful of loose cartridges tucked into a hip pouch, which came up to nineteen rounds in all.

Drizzt thought about all the ammo they had left back on the helicopter and felt another rush of anger toward his former classmate and rival. Boxes of ammunition, flashlights, walkie-talkies, shotguns, and not to mention their medical supplies flew off with the cowardly cur as he abandoned them to their supposed fate. That Beretta that Masoj had found out in the field, with the cold, stiff, blood-spattered fingers still wrapped around it could only mean that a S.T.A.R.S. team member lay dead or dying, and thanks to Berg'inyon, they didn't even have a band-aid to offer.

_Thump!_

The sound of something heavy sliding to the floor sounded from somewhere close by. In one synchronized movement, they turned toward the single door on the east wall, guns aimed in reflex. Drizzt was suddenly reminded of every horror movie he'd ever seen what with the strange house and the strange noises…

An involuntary shiver shot down his spin and Drizzt decided that he was definitely going to kick Berg'inyon's narrow ass once they got out of here. Assuming, of course, that Entreri didn't get to him first. The thought was a rather unpleasant one and Drizzt forced his mind to switch gears in his thinking process and focuses on the here and now.

_What the hell was that noise?_

"Entreri, you up for it?" Jarlaxle asked as he cast the man a side long glance. He was given a brisk nod, seeming fully recovered from his shaken ordeal.

"Yes sir!"

The mercenary nodded his approval at the man's remarkable ability to jump back on his feet in a pinch as if nothing ever happened.

"Excellent. It's all yours. Check it out and report back ASAP," Jarlaxle said. "We'll wait here in case the BGPD comes a calling. You run into any trouble, fire your weapon and we'll find you."

Entreri nodded once more and, without another word, started toward the door, his boots hardly making a sound against the marble floor. The man was trained in the art of silence. Such was one of the many ways of the assassin. The man had survived as long as he had in his profession thanks to pure skill, common sense, and keen intuition. He could take care of himself. Even so, Drizzt felt that sense of foreboding wash over him again.

"Entreri?"

Artemis's hand froze on the brass knob of the large, white door as he turned back and regarded Drizzt silently, and the ranger realized that there was nothing he could tell him that would make their position any better. Things were happening so fast and there was so much that seemed so wrong with this situation. As he tried to think of something, anything, to say he suddenly realized that he didn't even know where to start.

_Come on, Drizzt, he's a trained professional, remember? So are you so start acting like it!_

"Just take care ok?" he said finally. It wasn't what he wanted to say, but it would have to do.

Entreri gave him a long lingering look, his eyes saying so much and yet so little at the same time. Then he flashed him a rather cute, if not lopsided, grin as he partially turned toward him.

"Don't worry about me. We still have a score to settle, you and I. Besides, you won't be able to get rid of me that easily. I'll be back. That's a promise."

With that being said, he raised his Beretta in a partial salute, opened the door, and stepped through the doorway. Drizzt heard the echoing tick tock of the huge, richly decorated Grandfather clock at the other end of the room and then he was gone, closing the door behind him.

Zak caught his son's gaze and gave him an all knowing and reassuring smile, a look that told him not to worry but Drizzt couldn't shake the sudden certainty that Entreri wouldn't be coming back and fought back the sinking and unexpected urge to cry.

...

Entreri made a quick but thorough sweep of the room, taking in the stately elegance of the environment as he realized that he was completely alone and that whoever had made the noise was no longer there.

The solemn ticking of yet another grandfather clock filled the cool air, the sound echoing off of the shining black and white tiles. He was in what appeared to be a dining hall, the kind he'd only ever seen in movies about rich people or read about in his fantasy novels of elegant ball room banqueting halls. Like the room before, this one had an incredibly high ceiling and a second floor balcony but was also decorated with expensive looking art, complete with a set fireplace at the far end and a coat of arms adorned with crossed swords hung over the mantle. There didn't seem to be any way to get to the second floor, but there was a closed door to the right side of the fireplace.

Entreri lowered his weapon slightly and started for the door, still awed by the wealth of the so called abandoned mansion that the S.T.A.R.S. had stumbled into. The dining room had polished red wood trim and expensive looking artwork on the beige stucco walls, surrounding a long wooden table that ran the length of the room. The table had to seat at least twenty, though it was only set for a handful of people. Judging from the dust on the lacy place mats, nothing had been served for weeks.

But no one was supposed to have been here for thirty years, let alone hosted a formal dinner party. Spencer had this place closed down before anyone ever stayed here. Or so he had been told.

Entreri shook his head.

_Obviously someone had reopened it a long time ago. Okay, so then why was it that everyone in Baldur's Gate believed that the Spencer estate was boarded up, being nothing more than a crumbling old ruin out in the woods? And, more importantly, why had the Council lied to the Chief about its condition?_

Murders, disappearances, Baldur's Gate's Council, Drizzt… it was all so frustrating. He felt like he had some of the answers, but wasn't sure what questions to ask.

He reached the door he had previously sighted and turned the knob slowly, listening for any sound of movement on the other side. He couldn't hear anything over the ticking of the clock that was set against the wall what with each movement of the second hand reverberating hollowly, amplified by the cavernous room.

The door opened into one side of a narrow corridor, dimly lit by antique light fixtures. Entreri quickly checked both directions an took note that to the right was maybe ten meters of hardwood hall, a couple of doors across from him and a door at the end of the corridor and down to the left, the hallway took a sharp turn away from where he stood, widening out. There was a slight edge of brown on the floor there.

He wrinkled his nose, frowning as he picked up a vague odor in the air, a faint scent of something unpleasant and familiar. He stood in the doorway another moment, trying to place the smell and suddenly recalled the numerous times when he had discovered aged corpses in his travels, the dried-up, pulpy remains of what once might have been an any number of things. Time and exposure to the suns heat or any other type of climate conditions would usually dissipate the worst of the offensive odor, though what would remain would be bad enough. He still remembered the sun-baked scent of drying rot, like thickly soured milk and bile. The same smell that lingered in the corridor now like a bad dream.

_Fwump!_

Artemis's attention suddenly went to the soft, shuffling noise from behind the first door to his right. It almost sounded like a padded fist sliding across the wall. His instincts told him that there was someone on the other side of that door.

Entreri edged into the hallway and moved toward it, careful not to turn his back to the unsecured areas around him. As he got closer, the gentle sounds of movement stopped and he could see that the door in question wasn't even closed all the way.

The assassin took a deep, steadying breath and released it slowly, his senses telling him that something foul possibly lay beyond.

_Well, no time like the present._

With a gentle tap, the door swung inward, and he took a small, tentative step into a dim hall with pale green wallpaper. A broad-shouldered man was standing about twenty feet away, half-hidden in shadow with his back to Entreri. The man turned around slowly, the careful shuffling of someone drunk or injured and the smell that Entreri had noticed earlier came off the man in thick, noxious waves. His clothes were tattered and stained and the back of his head was patchy with sparse, scraggly strands of pepper colored hair.

_Must be a sick or dying man. But what would he be doing in a place like this?_

Whatever the case, Entreri didn't like it. His instincts were screaming at him to be extremely wary of this strange individual. He stepped further into the corridor and trained his Beretta on the man's torso. "Stay where you are old timer. Don't move a single muscle."

The man completed his turn and started toward Entreri, shambling forward into the light as if he hadn't heard a single word the assassin had said. His- its- face was deathly pale, except for the blood smeared around its rotting lips. Flaps of dried skin hung from its sunken cheeks, and the dark wells of the creature's eye sockets glittered with hunger as it reached out with skeletal hands.

Entreri was taken aback and back pedaled a few steps to keep some distance between him self and this thing in front of him and fired three shots that smacked into the creature's upper chest in a fine spray of crimson. With a gasping moan, it crumpled to the floor, dead.

Entreri staggered back once more as his thoughts raced in time with his thundering heart beat. He clipped the edge of the door with one shoulder, unconsciously closing it behind him and was vaguely aware that it latched shut as he stared at the fallen, stinking heap.

_Dead… That goddamn thing's the walking dead!_

The cannibal attacks at Baldur's Gate had all been near or in the forest. He had been a fan of and had seen enough late night horror movies to know exactly what it was he was looking at but even then, he still couldn't believe it.

They were zombies.

No. No way. That was just pure fiction, but then again it was possible that maybe there was some kind of a disease mimicking the symptoms. Entreri realized that he had to tell the others immediately and find some way to get out of this forsaken place and get help. He turned and grabbed at the handle, but the heavy door wouldn't move. He suddenly remembered that it must have locked itself when he'd stumbled.

From behind him came the unmistakable sound of wet movement. Entreri spun completely around, gun poised and eyes wide as the twitching creature clawed at the wooden floor, pulling itself toward him in an eager, single-minded silence. Entreri realized that it was drooling as it came nearer and the sight of the sticky pink rivulets pooling to the wood floor finally spurred him to action.

With a low growl that reverberated in his throat, the assassin fired again, two shots into the thing's decaying, upturned face. Dark holes opened up in its knobby skull, sending tiny rovers of fluid and fleshy tissue through its lower jaw. With a heavy sigh, the rotting thing settled to the floor in a spreading red lake.

Artemis Entreri didn't want to make any bets on it staying down. He gave one more futile yank on the door and then stepped carefully past the body, moving down the corridor. He rattled the handle of another door on his left but it was locked as well. There was a tiny etching in the key plate in what looked like the figure of a sword. Understanding that that could be important for him to know, he filed that bit of information away into his already confused, whirling thoughts and continued on, gripping his trusty Beretta tightly.

As he continued on he noticed that there was an offshoot to his right with a single door, but he ignored it, wanting to find a way to circle back to the front hall instead. The others must have heard the shots, but he had to assume that there were more creatures running around here like the one he'd just killed. The rest of the team might already have their hands full.

There was a door at the end of the hall on the left, where the corridor turned. Entreri hurried toward it, the putrid scent of the creature, or rather, zombie if one would call it what one will, was making him want to gag. As he neared the door, he realized that the smell was actually getting worse, intensifying with each step.

He came to a complete stop just before the door as his tired mind registered this and then he heard the soft, hungry moan as his hand touched the knob, even as it dawned on him that he only had two bullets left in his clip. In the shadows to his right was a trace of movement.

_Reload and get somewhere safe. Not necessarily in that order either._

Entreri jerked the door open and made a quick, blind side step into the room and into the waiting arms of another of the shambling creatures that waited on the other side, its peeling fingers grasping at him as it lunged for his throat.

With a startled cry, the trained warrior reflexively raised his gun, sticking it barrel first into the gapping maw that sought out his neck, warding it off as he pulled the trigger.

...

First there were three shots and then, only seconds later, two more, the sounds distant but distinct in the palatial lobby.

_Entreri!_

"Drizzt, why don't you…" Jarlaxle started, but Zaknefien didn't even let him finish the thought.

"No, I will." he said, already starting for the door on the east wall. He already knew Entreri wouldn't waste shots like that unless he had to or if he needed help.

Jarlaxle relented, nodding quickly. "Go. I'll wait here."

Zak opened the door with his son right behind him. They moved cautiously into a huge dining room, not as wide as the front hall but at least as long. There was another door at the opposite end, past a grandfather clock that ticked loudly in the frigid, dusty air.

Zaknefien jogged toward it with his revolver in hand, feeling tense and worried.S.T.A.R.S. teams were often sent into risky situations where the circumstances were unusual, but this was the first time sense he'd been a rookie that Zak felt like things had gone totally out of control. Masoj Hunett was dead, cowardly Berg'inyon Baenre had left them to be eaten by the demon dogs from hell, and now Artemis Entreri was in trouble. Jarlaxle shouldn't have sent him in alone. Drizzt reached the door first, touching the handle with slim fingers and looking to him for the go ahead. Zak nodded and he pushed it open, going in low and left. Zak took the other side, both of them sweeping an empty corridor.

"Artemis?" Drizzt called out quietly but there was no answer. Zak scowled as he sniffing the air. Something out here smelled like rotting fruit.

"I'll check the doors," Zak said as he moved away. Drizzt nodded and edged to the left, alert and focused.

Zaknefien moved toward the first door, feeling good that Drizzt was at his back. He had thought his son may have been too naïve and innocent when he had first transferred, but the young Drow was proving to be a bright and capable soldier, a welcome addition to the Alphas.

Drizzt let out a sharp gasp of surprise and Zak spun around as the scent of decay suddenly thickened in the narrow hall.

The young ranger was backing away from an opening at the end of the corridor, his weapon trained on something Zak couldn't see.

"S-s-stop!" His voice was high and shaky, his expression horrified and after a few, short jittery seconds, he fired off two shots, still backing towards Zak, his breathing fast and shallow.

"Get clear on the left!" He raised the Colt as Drizzt stumbled out of the way as a tall man came into view. The figure's arms were stretching out like a sleepwalker's, the hands frail and grasping.

Zak saw the creature's face then and didn't hesitate. He fired, a .357 round peeling the top of its ashen skull away in an explosive burst, blood oozing down its split skull and into pale, rolling eyes.

It pitched back, sprawling face-up at the young Do'Urden's feet. Terrified, Drizzt jumped away from the gruesome sight, trying desperately to rub the sudden out break of chilling goose bumps away from his arms. As he turned away from the awful sight, he suddenly found himself faced with another that would haunt his dreams for years to come.

Zak looked away from his recent kill and turned to him, stunned. "What…" he started but then stopped when he saw his son's agonized expression. He followed his horrified gaze to what was on the carpet in front of them, laying in the small sitting area that marked the end of the corridor.

For a moment Zak thought it was Entreri, but the size of the body was too bulky with muscle and it wasn't until he saw the S.T.A.R.S. Bravo insignia on the vest that he felt a different kind of horror set in as he struggled to recognize the features. The Bravo had been decapitated, the head laying a foot away from the corpse, the face covered in gore.

_Oh Gods! It's Wulfgar!_

One of the best field scouts Zak had ever known and one hell of a nice guy. There was a gaping, ragged wound in his stomach, chunks of partly eaten tissue and gut strewn around the bloody hole. His left hand was missing, and there was no weapon nearby and Zak figured it must have been his gun that Masoj had found in the woods just before his own life had come crashing to a brutal end.

Zak looked away, sickened and unable to keep his own personal feelings in check. Wulfgar had been young but a decent sort and did a lot of work in blacksmithing. Bruenor had treated him like a son and now he no longer had his daughter or his would be son in law to look forward too at the end of the day. Zak suddenly thought of his own son and felt a surge of helpless fear for him. He wasn't afraid of death but the thought of him going through the pain he had felt twice when he had lost his father…

Or even the thought of losing _him_…

Drizzt dropped to his knees next to his friend's ravaged body and stared at it blankly, the shock of it all becoming too much for him to handle all at once. He decided then to just let it go, to retreat away from this terrible reality and find a place of sanity. He closed his eyes and pressed damp, clammy palms to his face, a thick, blood flecked strand of silvery white obscuring him from view.

Zak wished there was something, anything, he could do, to say, but he was more powerless now then he had ever been before. His heart went out to the young ranger who had lost so much in his short young life and couldn't help but wonder if he would ever be the same.

Suddenly, Drizzt's posture changed, his position shifting into a low crouch and Zak watched in stunned silence as the Drow's hands began to rifle quickly through pockets and at last, the belt pack. Then he understood what his son's goal had been.

They needed ammo and, as unfortunate as it was, Wulfgar's corpse certainly didn't.

Drizzt came up with two clips for a nine-millimeter and tucked them into his hip pocket. Zak turned and stared down at Wulfgar's murderer in disgust and wonder. He had no doubt that he was looking at one of the cannibal killers that had been preying upon Baldur's Gate. It had a crusty scum of red around its mouth and gore-encrusted nails, as well as a ragged shirt that was stiff with dried blood. What was weird was how dead it looked.

Zak had once done a covert hostage rescue in another region far away, where a group of farmers had been held for weeks by a band of insane guerrilla rebels. Several of the hostages had been killed early in the siege, and after S.T.A.R.S. managed to capture the rebels, Zak had gone with one of the survivors to record the deaths. The four victims had been shot, their bodies dumped behind the small wooden shack that the rebels had taken over. After three weeks in the scorching sun of the desert like south lands, the skin on their faces had shriveled with the cracking, lined flesh pulling away from sinew and bone. He still remembered those faces clearly and saw them again now as he looked down at the fallen creature. It wore the face of death. Which, he noted, would explain why it had smelled like a slaughterhouse on a hot day. Somebody forgot to tell this guy that dead people didn't just get up and walk around.

Then he noticed his son's back was still turned to him as the young elf slowly rose to his feet, his face down cast and hidden. For a moment, all was silent and Zaknefien reached a sympathetic hand to rest gently on the tense shoulders. His eyes widened slightly as he felt them tremble beneath his touch and he gingerly eased Drizzt to look at him. The former ranger's face was tear streaked but Zak could clearly see now that the younger Do'Urden wasn't trembling in sorrow nor shuddering in fear, but was quivering with unsurpassed rage. His eyes held a promise of death and Zak unconsciously took an uneasy step back.

The Hunter had surfaced.

Then Drizzt seemed to have composed himself and his expression calmed as did his body though the tension in his muscles was betrayed by his posture and the firm set to his finely chiseled jaw. He took a deep, steadying breath and exhaled, drawing it out in a slow, deliberate sigh and turned to face his partner squarely.

Zak could see the same sickened confusion he had felt moments before flash across Drizzt's face, the same questions in his eyes that they could not yet answer.

But all that could wait for later. Right now, they had to find Entreri and regroup.

Giving him one more pat on the shoulder, Zak motioned for them to continue on their mission. Drizzt nodded in silent agreement and together, they moved back down corridor and checked all three remaining doors, rattling handles and pushing at the heavy wooden frames. All were securely locked. But Entreri had to have gone through one of them for there was nowhere else he could have gone. It didn't make sense, and short of breaking the doors down, there was nothing they could do about it.

"We should report our findings to Jarlaxle," Drizzt said, and Zaknefien nodded in agreement. If they'd stumbled into the hiding place of the killers, they were going to need a plan of attack.

They ran back through the dining room, the stale air coming as a relief after the corridor's reek of blood and decay. They reached the door back to the main hall and hurried through with Zak wondering what their Captain would make of this particularly nasty mess. It was all just downright-

Zak stopped short causing Drizzt to run into him from behind as the weapons specialist's ruby red eyes searched the elegant, empty hall, feeling like the butt of some practical joke that simply wasn't funny.

Captain Jarlaxle D'Arthre was gone.


	6. Mission 6: Under attack

Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

"Jarlaxle?" Zak shouted, his deep voice echoing through the chilly room. "Captain Jarlaxle!" He jogged toward a row of arches at the back of the hall, calling out over his shoulder to Drizzt as he ran, "Don't leave the room!"

Drizzt walked to the stairs and took a seat, feeling almost dizzy as his two personas battled for dominance. As he got him self some what under control, his mind wandered to the bizarre events taking place. First Entreri disappeared and now their Captain. They hadn't even been gone five minutes and he had said that he was going to stay put. Why had he left? He looked around for signs of a struggle, a spent cartridge or even a spot of blood but there was nothing to indicate what might have happened in their absence.

Zaknefien appeared on the other side of the giant staircase, shaking his head in befuddlement as he walked over slowly to join him. Drizzt bit his lower lip, frowning.

"Do you think he ran into one of those things? The Captain I mean." he asked.

Zak sighed. "Well, I certainly don't think the BGPD showed up and snuck him out. But if he had run into trouble, we would have heard the shots."

"Not necessarily if he had been ambushed and dragged away…"

They stood silently for a moment, thinking. Drizzt was still a bit shaken from the unpleasant face-to-face encounter with the walking corpse and even more so from the painful discovery of yet another close friend's mangled remains, but with all things considered, thought he'd accepted the facts pretty well. The woods bordering the remote city of Baldur's Gate had become infested with zombies.

After a lifetime of reading trashy novels about serial killers, is a cannibal zombie so hard to swallow? Not really. He had battled things far worse in his 78 years of existence, from the Underdark to the surface and even in a few dimensions in between. So somehow he decided that it wasn't and that neither were the murderous dogs or the secretly kept estate for that matter. There was no question that it all existed. The question was, why? Did the mansion have anything to do with the murders that had plagued them for weeks on end or had the zombies simply overrun it like they had overrun Baldur's Gate's forest?

_Was that creature the last thing that Catty-Brie saw as it was Wulfgar's?_

He rejected that thought almost violently, the Hunter wanting any excuse possible to surface and gain complete control. But he understood that thinking about his deceased friends now would be a fatal mistake.

"So do we go looking or do we wait?" Drizzt said at length.

"Go looking. Wulfgar made it here so the rest of the Bravos could be somewhere in this house as well but it'd be easy enough to get lost. I'm just guessing that Entreri…" He half-smiled at the mention of the human, though Drizzt could see the worry in his eyes. "That Entreri and Jarlaxle just got side tracked but if we do a thorough search and keep alert, we'll find them. It'd take more than a couple of walking stiffs to cause either of them any grief and I think you would know that better than anyone."

His smile widened as he said that and Drizzt had the unexpected desire to blush though for what reason he was uncertain of. Zak reached into a pocket in his vest and pulled out something wrapped in a handkerchief and handed it to him. He felt the thin metal objects beneath the light fabric and recognized them instantly.

"It's the set Entreri gave me to practice with last month," Zak said, almost sheepishly. "I figured you would have better luck with them than I would. He taught you how to use them didn't he? I watched him teach you once and got curious."

Drizzt nodded, tucking the lock picks into his hip pouch as the slight blush finally found its way to his face. His father had been spying on him! Well, then again, they hadn't been doing anything worth spying on, but still. Had his father really taken an interest in the assassin's former "career"? Drizzt remembered he'd been given a few pieces from Entreri's old set which held several picks and torsion bars. The objects wrapped in the cloth felt just like them and he couldn't deny the fact that they would come in handy. As he set the small bundle into his pack it settled on top of something else, his nimble fingers gently ghosting over a hard and smooth surface-

-_Trenell's computer!_

In all the excitement, Drizzt had totally forgotten about his strange encounter in the locker room. He opened his mouth to tell Zak but then shut it, remembering Trenell's cryptic warning. "_And if I were you, I wouldn't mention this conversation to anyone__..."_

Ah, to the nine hells with it. He had almost risked telling Entreri.

_Where was Entreri now? Who's to say that Trenell's "dire consequences" that she had spoken of haven't already occurred?_

Drizzt suddenly realized what it was he was thinking and had to fight off an urge to laugh at himself. What had happened with Ms. Trenell probably wasn't even relevant to their predicament. As for whether or not he could trust Zaknefien, his own father, That was with out a question. He certainly didn't trust Trenell. But still…

He decided to stay quiet, at least until he had a chance to see what kind of information the little computer held.

"I think we should split up," Zak continued. "I know it's dangerous but we need to cover a lot of ground in here. If we find anybody, we meet back here. We'll use this room as a base." He turned and fixed Drizzt with serious gaze. "Are you up for this Drizzt? If need be, we could search together…"

"No, you're right," The experienced ranger said. "I can take the west wing." Unlike cops, S.T.A.R.S. seldom partnered. They were trained to watch their own backs in dangerous situations at all costs. And so that was what they were going to do. Besides, if they went together, it would take them longer to cover the whole house. No, going it alone would be a better bet. Not necessarily smarter, but defiantly more thorough.

Zak nodded. "Alright then. I'll go back and see if I can_ persuade_ one of those doors to open. You just keep an eye out for a back exit. Conserve your ammo… and above all else, be careful son."

"You too."

Zaknefien grinned, holding up his Colt Python. "Don't worry about me. I'm in good hands."

There was nothing left to say and so Drizzt headed straight for the set of doors on the west wall that Jarlaxle hadn't bothered to try earlier. Behind him, Zak hurried back to the dining room, disappearing through the door on the other side of the room. He heard the door open and close and then he was alone.

...

Drizzt let out a deep sigh as he collected him self, gathering up his courage to continue with the search all by his lonesome. This was no time to chicken out now and there was no turning back. He had friends in danger and they needed his help and he refused to lose anyone else that was dear to him. Even now, his two older brothers, Dinin and Nelfien, were both probably dead just like Wulfgar.

Drizzt shook his head violently to clear it of those awful and grisly thoughts. With the light of determination burning in his lavender eyes, he focused all his thoughts and energies to the task ahead of him.

_Well, here goes nothing._

The cream painted doors opened smoothly without even the slightest hint of a creak, revealing a small, shadowy room as cool and silent as the main hall, all in shades of pale blue. Dimmed track lighting illuminated framed paintings on the grayish walls and in the center of the room was a large milky white marble statue of an elvish woman holding a pitcher in the crook of one arm.

Drizzt quietly closed the door behind him and allowed his eyes adjust to the gloomy room and took note of the two doors across the way from him. The one on the left was open but was blocked by a small trunk that was pushed in front of it. It was unlikely that Jarlaxle had gone that way unless he had somehow managed to move it into that position from behind the door way and it looked to be pretty heavy.

He made his way towards the door on the right and tried the knob but it didn't give.

_Damn. Locked…Of course…_

Sighing, Drizzt reached into his hip pack for Entreri's lock picks and then hesitated as his nimble fingers brushed yet again against the mini-disk reader.

_How do I keep forgetting about that? Well, let's see what Lady Trenell thinks is so important..._

He slipped it out and studied it a moment and, after locating the proper button, switched it on. A screen, the same size as one might find on a game boy, flickered to life. After a few seconds of experimentation, he managed to find a file that, once opened, displayed small lines of type across the monitor. He scanned the material, recognizing names and dates from local newspapers. Trenell had somehow managed to compact every article she could find about the murders and disappearances in Baldur's Gate plus the pieces of the S.T.A.R.S. Drizzt had to admit, it was kinda impressive how well she kept up to date on things. He had to give her credit…even if she did present herself as some two bit hussy.

_Ok, so this is all things I already know. Nothing new or out of the ordinary here… _

Drizzt continued to skim through the material, wondering what the point in all of this was. After the long stream of articles ended, there was a list of names.

LEONA ROBERTSON, STEVE KELLER, SHANE DOUGLAS, MICHAEL DEES, MILES LAURENCE, JOHN HOWE, CARSON RICH, MARTIN CRAGKHORN, SUE LUBECC, HENRY SARTON, WAYNE SANDERS, ELLEN SMITH, PAUL BOSSOM, CALIHAYE, YORK TATUME, BILL ROMANS, CASSANDRA MARCOS…

Drizzt suddenly halted as a frown found its way to his handsome face. He wasn't quite sure what it was that had grabbed his attention so but for some reason, he was un able to continue, as if some little piece of extremely important information demanded to be acknowledged. He quickly rescanned the list of names and stopped yet again as his eyes remained glued to the small screen. It was the names, he knew, but none of them seemed familiar except –

CALIHAYE

Realization struck then as he continued to stare at the name. Wasn't that the name of Entreri's girlfriend who had recently disappeared? Hadn't someone once mentioned that she had worked for BG? He couldn't be sure but he had to make it a point to ask Entreri…

…that was assuming of course he ever found him.

_Argh! This is just a waste of time! _He thought angrily.

He needed to carry on with his search for the other S.T.A.R.S. He pressed the forwarding key a second time to get through the end of the data faster and a picture appeared, made up completely of tiny lines set into patterns. There were squares and long rectangles that were crosshatched with smaller marks that connected the empty boxes. Beneath it was a single line of text that showed a message as enigmatic as Trenell her self:

KNIGHT KEYS; TIGER EYES; FOUR CRESTS (GATE OF NEW LIFE); EAST-EAGLE/WEST-WOLF.

_Well…That's certainly…helpful. NOT! What the hell is all this crazy mambo jumbo supposed to mean anyways? Some help…_

Upon further inspection, he concluded that the picture was some kind of map. In truth, it looked like some kind of floor plan or blueprint for the entire building. The biggest area was at the center and a slightly smaller one expended off to the left. Drizzt suddenly felt his heart skip a beat as he stared down at the small screen, wondering how Trenell had known about any of this when his own team, the S.T.A.R.S., hadn't.

As he scanned the map, he realized that the large expanse of area was the mansion's first floor. He pressed the forward button again and saw what he assumed was the second floor. There was nothing after the second map but this was more than enough to aid him in his search. As far as he was concerned, there was no longer any question that the Spencer estate was the source of the terror in Baldur's Gate and the surrounding forest of Cloak Wood. That meant that the answers they all sought were right here waiting to be uncovered in this very mansion.

...

The zombie's head erupted into a shower of gore as Entreri fired point-blank into its grisly maw. As the now headless body staggered back a few steps, he fired into the repulsive thing's gut twice. The shots were muffled by its rotten flesh and it fell against him and foul, stinking blood sent small spatters across the side of his face.

Entreri hastily pushed it away, utterly repulsed by the contact, the back of his throat locking up on him. His hands and the barrel of his weapon were covered and dripping with fetid sticky fluids. The creature collapsed to the floor with its limbs spasming.

He backed away from the thing, wiping the Beretta against the pant leg of his beige khakis as he took deep breaths, trying desperately not to vomit. The zombie out in the hall had been a dried out mess, shriveled and dehydrated but this one was…

…fresh, if that was the right word for it. Festering and wet…

He swallowed hard and the urge to the throw up slowly began to pass. He didn't have a particularly weak stomach, being in the assassin business was not a trade for those who did, but that smell! Gods, it was absolutely horrid!

_Come on, keep it together old man. You're not out of deep water yet. There could still be more of them…._

The hall he'd entered was all dark wood and dim light. For the moment, there was no sound except the erratic beating of his heart that echoed in his ears. He dared to look down at the body, wondering exactly what it was, or rather, what it had been. He had felt its hot, fetid breath against his face as it had made that deranged lunge for his neck. It wasn't a reanimated corpse no matter what it looked like so there was no way this could be the work of a Necromancer.

Entreri decided it didn't matter either way. For all intents and purposes, it was a zombie, plain and simple. It had tried to bite him for crying out loud and creatures like it had already chewed down some of Baldur's Gate's population. He needed to find his way back to the others and they had to get out and get help or at least some kind of back up. They didn't have the firepower to handle this situation alone. He scowled to himself as he ejected the empty clip from his dripping weapon and quickly reloaded it, his chest tightening with stress as he counted fifteen rounds left. He had his knives and above all else, his trusty Vampiric Dagger but the thought of going up against a zombie with only that wasn't all that appealing. Besides, you can't suck the life out of something that's already dead.

An involuntary shudder shot down his spine as he surveyed the area. There was a plain looking door to his left. Entreri walked up to it cautiously and pulled at the knob, but it was locked. He squinted at the key plate, and wasn't that surprised to see an etching of what looked like armor. He could see that there was a theme developing here. He sighed in frustration as he moved down the wide hall, listening for any sound and taking frequent deep breaths through his nose. The coagulated gunk on his pants and hands made it difficult to discern if there were more of those monsters around but it could be his only chance to avoid another close encounter. So he had to deal with it…for now at least.

The hall turned to the left and he rushed the corner, sweeping the Beretta wide across the open expanse of the area. There was a support pillar partially blocking his view but he could see the back of a man just past it, the slumped shoulders and stained clothes marking the thing clearly as one of the creatures. Entreri quickly edged to the right, trying to get a clear shot. The zombie was maybe forty feet away and he didn't want to waste the last of his rounds by foolishly missing. At the sound of his gun cocking, it began to turn, shuffling slowly. So slowly that Entreri hesitated, watching the way it moved. This one seemed to have been dipped in a thin layer of slime, dull light reflecting off of its glistening skin as it stumbled almost blindly toward the assassin. It slowly raised its arms, its pale, hairless skull wobbling on its emaciated neck. Silently, it shuffled forward.

Entreri took a sliding step back to his left and the zombie changed direction, veering toward him eagerly, closing the distance between them at a slow walk.

_Just as I thought: Dangerous but dumb. Just like in those crazy novels Drizzt always reads. And easy to outrun too…._

He rationalized that he had to save ammo in case he got cornered. There were stairs at the end of the hall, and Entreri took a deep breath, readying himself to take flight. He stepped back, giving himself enough room to maneuver and heard a gasping moan behind him, a fresh wave of rancid stench assaulting his senses. He spun swiftly, the realization hitting him even before he realized he was moving. The festering zombie was only a few feet away, reaching for him, bits of its putrid gut spilling out across its shattered abdomen. The Artemis Entreri of old wouldn't have made such a foolish and amateur mistake like turning his back to an open area that hadn't been thoroughly checked. What had happened to him? He was falling apart at the seams.

He blamed the only thing he could.

He blamed it on age.

_SHIT!_

Entreri made a mad dash down the corridor, dodging both of them and cursing himself all the while. He passed the thick support beam and almost made it to the stairs but stopped cold as he saw what waited at the top. He caught only a glimpse of the ragged creature standing at the head of the stair and spun away, raising his weapon to face the attackers that shambled toward him hungrily.

From the shadows beside the steps came a heavy, gurgling sound. The assassin spun once more and caught a glimpse of a small doorway beneath the stairs hidden in the darkness there, the dark wood blending so well with the shadows that he had almost missed it. Entreri ran for it, grabbing at the handle as he silently prayed to whatever God or Goddess out there that it would open as the creatures began to close in all around him.

If it was locked, he was a dead man.

...

Kimmuriel Oblidora had never been more afraid in his entire life. Not even when he lived at the mercy of his Matron Mother and sisters in Mezoberannzan. For what seemed like an eternity, he'd listened to the soft scrape of rotting flesh brushing against the door and had tried desperately to think of a plan, his dread building with each passing minute. There was no lock on the door and he'd lost his handgun on the run for the house. The small storage room, though well stocked with chemicals and stacks of papers, had offered nothing to use as a defense except a half-empty can of bug spray. And against things that had no use for brains, his psyonic powers were next to useless.

It was the can he gripped now, standing behind the door of the tiny room. If or when the monsters finally figured out how to use a doorknob, he planned on spraying it in their eyes and then making a run for it.

_Bug spray… Yea, great weapon…Dumb ass._

He had heard what could have been shots somewhere close by, but they weren't repeated. His hope that it was one of the team faded as the seconds ticked past. He was starting to give a serious consideration to the concept that he was the only one left when the door suddenly burst open and a gasping figure hurdled inside. Kimmuriel didn't hesitate. He leapt forward from his position behind the door and pressed the button, releasing a toxic spray of chemical mist into its face, tensing himself to make a mad dash past it.

"GAH!" It yelled, and fell back against the door, slamming it shut. It covered its eyes in agony as it sat spluttering. Kimmuriel stared in disbelief at it. It wasn't a monster he had just maced. It was one of the Alphas!

"Oh my God! Oh my God! I'm so sorry!!" Kimmuriel was blushing madly as he reached into his field medical kit, his immense relief at seeing another of the S.T.A.R.S. battling with monumental embarrassment. He fumbled out a clean cloth and a tiny squeeze bottle of water, stepping toward the other S.T.A.R.S. member. "Keep your eyes shut and don't rub at them."

The Alpha dropped his hands reluctantly, droplets of the toxic spray dotted his blood spattered face, and the young Drow finally was able to recognize him. It was Artemis Entreri. Kimmuriel felt himself blush even harder than before and was suddenly glad that the man had his eyes screwed shut in pain and couldn't see him.

_Nice going, Kimmuriel! Way to make a good impression on your first operation. Lose your gun, get lost, blind a teammate who just so happens to be Artemis of all people…_

He led him over to the small cot in the corner of the room and sat him down, letting his training take over.

"Lean your head back. This is going to sting a little, but it's just water." He dabbed at the man's eyes with a damp cloth, relieved that he hadn't sprayed him with anything worse.

"What was that stuff?" Entreri asked, blinking rapidly. Tears and water streamed down his face, but there didn't seem to be any damage.

"Uh… yea, it was bug repellent. The active ingredient is permephrin which is an irritant but the effect shouldn't last long. I lost my gun on the mad dash we made for this place and my mind powers are virtually useless against things that don't think. When you came crashing in here, I thought you were one of those things. But if they haven't figured out how to use a doorknob by now, they probably won't ever." He suddenly realized that he was babbling, which wasn't like him, and quickly shut up, making one last half hearted swipe at Entreri's sensitive eyes with the cloth in his hand.

"Your Jarlaxle's Phsyonist…Kimmuriel, right?"

The young Drow nodded miserably. "That's correct…I really am sorry…."

"Forget about it," he said, and sat up straighter, flashing the Drow a lopsided grin of approval. "Not too bad of a weapon, actually. Sure got the jump on me."

He stood then and looked around the small room, frowning. There wasn't much to see other than an open trunk full of papers, a shelf lined with bottles of mostly unlabeled chemicals, a cot, and a desk. It was pretty obvious Kimmuriel had been through all of it in his search for something to use as a means to protect himself.

"What about the rest of your team?" Entreri asked.

Kimmuriel shook his head. "I don't know. Something went wrong with the helicopter and we had to set down. Once we did, we were attacked by some kind of crazed animals and Uthengental told us to run for cover." He shrugged then, suddenly feeling like he was a small child all over again. "I got turned around in the woods and ended up at the front door of this place. I think one of the others must have broken it down because the door was open…" He trailed off, looking away from the man's intense gaze. The rest was probably obvious: he had no weapon, he'd gotten lost, and he had ended up here hiding like a coward. All in all, a pretty poor and humiliating showing.

"There's nothing you could have done. Uthengental said run, so you ran. All you did was followed orders and that's that so don't cry over it."

Kimmuriel looked at the man in silence. He was looking away from him, jaw clenched tightly from stress as his sharp silvery eyes remained locked intently on the door.

"Those undead creatures out there are all over the place. I hate to admit it but I got lost too and the rest of the Alphas could be anywhere. Trust me, just the fact that you made it this far-"

Just outside the small room, a low, nostalgic wail arose from one of said creatures and Entreri ceased his speech as his expression turned grim. Kimmuriel could not suppress the shudder that ran through him.

"What do we do now?"

"We look for the others and find a way out." The assassin said with grim determination. He sighed then as he looked down at his weapon. "Problem is, you're unarmed and I'm almost out of ammo. And believe you me, the last thing I wanna do is go at it toe to toe with one of these things armed with naught but my dagger…"

The Psyonist expression brightened a bit at this and he began to rummage around in his hip pack. He pulled out two full magazines and handed them to the man. With that, at least he had something to contribute to redeem himself in the eyes of his superior. Entreri allowed a look of relief to pass over his face briefly as he took the ammo and placed them in his own pack.

"I also found this on the desk," Kimmuriel said and produced a silver key in the shape of a sword. He had no idea what it went to but thought it may prove to be useful. Entreri regarded it thoughtfully then took it to examine it further. It was a beautifully detailed piece and after some contemplation, Artemis tucked it securely into a pocket on his vest. Then he walked over to the open trunk and looked down at the stacks of papers that overflowed into a big mess that scattered out on to the floor. He crouched down rifled through them quickly, frowning.

"Your field is biochemistry, right? You searched through these already?"

Kimmuriel joined him and shook his head. "I'm afraid I barley gave them a glance. My attention has been mainly focused on the door."

Entreri picked up a sheet of paper, gave it a once over and handed it to him. He scanned it quickly and found that it was a list of neurotransmitters and level indicators.

"This is brain chemistry," he said, a hint of interest in his voice, "but these numbers are all wrong. The serotonin and nor epinephrine are far too low… but if you look here, you can see the dopamine is off the chart. We're talking major schizophrenia here..."

The Drow noticed the dubious look on the man's face and smiled a little. Well he was a Psyonist after all. It _was_ his business to know these things. The S.T.A.R.S. had recruited him right after graduation from the academy, promising him a whole team of researchers and a lab of his own to study molecular biology, his true passion in life. Provided, of course, that he went through basic training and got some field experience. No one else had shown so much interest in hiring a whiz kid and it was thanks to Jarlaxle that he even got the job in the first place…

His thoughts where disrupted by a soft thump at the door and his smile faded. He was getting experience, alright…perhaps a little too much of it.

Entreri fished the sword key out of his pocket and looked at him seriously. "I passed a door with this sword engraved over the keyhole as I was running down here. I'm going to go check it out and see if it leads back to the main hall. I want you to stay here and go through these files, all of them. Maybe there's something we can use here." Kimmuriel's uncertainly must have shown on his face because Entreri offered him one of his rare half smiles. He rested a hand on the young Drow's shoulder awkwardly, his voice low, almost soothing. "Thanks to you, I've got plenty of ammo now so I won't be gone long."

The Psyonist nodded, making a conscious effort to relax his tensed body a little. He was extremely scared, but letting Entreri see it wasn't going to help matters in the least. Hell, he wasn't going to admit it, but the man was probably scared too.

Entreri walked to the door as he continued talking. "The BGPD should be here any time now, so if I don't come back right away, just wait here, got it? And it would probably be wise to barricade the door…just incase."

He raised his weapon and placed his other hand on the doorknob. "Get ready, Oblidora. As soon as I'm out I want you to move the trunk in front of the door. I'll give a yell when I get back."

Kimmuriel nodded again, and Entreri was out the door. He looked both ways quickly before moving out into the hallway and into the gloom. Kimmuriel closed the door and leaned against it, listening intently. After a few seconds of silence, he heard the rattle of gunfire not too far away. Five shots echoed into the stale night air and then nothing. He waited a little longer and after a few more minutes, he dragged the trunk over to block a section of the door, edging it in front of the hinges so he could push it out of the way easily when the need arose. With that done, he knelt in front of it, trying to clear his thoughts as he started scanning through the papers, fighting back his feelings of insecurity. He was still fairly young by Elven standards after all. Then again, so was Drizzt. He sighed and pulled out a handful of papers and began to read.


End file.
